


Special Treatment

by peridotsarelongterm



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Accents, Adultery, Alternate Universe - Western, Bathtub Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dax would approve, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Doctor Kink, Doctor/Patient, Exhibitionism, Eye Contact, F/M, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, First Orgasm, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Medical Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Universe, Missionary Position, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Period-Typical Sexism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Seduction, Size Kink, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Western, Woman on Top, at least very little plot, could go either way but Bones is pretty naughty here, hands of a surgeon, just a little bit, yep I’m back on my bullshit with that again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridotsarelongterm/pseuds/peridotsarelongterm
Summary: It’s the mid-1870s, and you, the Reader, are brought by your disinterested husband to a doctor for “hysteria” treatment. He didn’t realize he’d picked the best specialist in town.(I’m sorry, I know it’s filthy but I had to.)
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/You, Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader, Mirror Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader
Comments: 54
Kudos: 203





	1. Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> FWIW, Ben Childress was the assy miner from the end of Mudd’s Women. He seemed like he’d fit the bill for Reader’s hubby here.
> 
> Also, content note - there’s a brief sentence or two about McCoy being from the antebellum south. It’s not a major plot point unless you count the accent references. I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to get around that, and I hope it doesn’t upset. I really just wanted to write Old West!Bones getting laid. 
> 
> This could probably go either mirror or prime, btw (though prime!McCoy probably wouldn’t use the Hippocratic Oath to feel up other people’s spouses).

The first thing you noticed about the doctor’s office was the address: 20 Lacour Street. La coeur? The heart? It seemed odd to you that a street named that way would look this bleak.

Then again, that was consistent with the rest of the town. Your husband, who was driving you, had recently moved the two of you from a comfortable existence in the San Francisco Bay Area to tiny Pioche, a mining town in east Nevada. To say you were struggling to acclimate would be the understatement of the era.

From a career standpoint, you conceded it made sense. Ben was a successful enough businessman in California, but there was much more potential for quick profit in a rapidly growing mining town. He’d had the idea for several years, and when the timing looked right, he struck, moving the two of you hundreds of miles away to sell mining supplies to the prospectors. Yes, you’d admit it was a promising enough business venture for him.

From a personal standpoint for you, though, it just sucked.

The ratio of men to women was roughly 8 to 1, and the majority of those women were, in one way or another, not from a stratum of society you could associate with without a severe social penalty. It was also so dangerous that you were virtually trapped inside, especially after dark. You felt helpless. Caged. And lonely as hell.

You’d tried to reason with Ben. Really, you had. But when it became obvious that he refused to see your point of view, your dissatisfaction started coming out in other, less helpful ways — sarcasm and passive aggression, to name a couple. Neither would do much to get you home to San Francisco, and they weren’t doing much for your marriage in the here and now, but it was at least momentarily satisfying to see him a tenth as uncomfortable as you were.

You really hadn’t anticipated him to take things in this bullshit direction and drag you to a doctor for “hysteria,” though.

So, here you were at the office of one Dr. McCoy at 20 Lacour Street, wondering what the results of this appointment would be. You were pretty sure Ben was just trying to prove a point and get you to stop being “a shrew,” but who knew with him lately.

All he would tell you was that McCoy was supposedly one of the finest doctors in town, although as you’d pointed out, anyone with a medical degree could make that claim. Half of Pioche’s practitioners had no formal training at all, and you were glad he at least had the prescience to not drag you to one of them, even if he was armchair-diagnosing you with mental illness for being inconvenient.

As you approached the staircase, you noticed one pleasant thing about the building — a small sprig of Mexican goldpoppy that reminded you of the fields in your home state. Who knew, maybe this would somehow turn out in your favor. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could still find yourself back on a train to California. Maybe you could at least cooperate long enough to find out.

  
~~~~~

“Ah, Mr. Childress, I presume. You’re right on time. Won’t you come in?”

You felt like you recognized the doctor from somewhere, but you couldn’t quite place him. He was about average height, with a slim build and dark, slightly wavy hair. Probably about your husband’s age, but there was something about him that seemed at once both older and younger, like he had seen a good deal of trouble but still had plenty of energy to get himself into more. He seemed a bit surprised to see you, though he smiled nevertheless.

“And who is this?” You thought you heard a hint of a southern accent, which wasn’t too out of place. A lot of southerners had headed west after the war for economic reasons. You didn’t care for some of the beliefs they tended to have, but you’d always had a soft spot for accents, and this kind was no exception.

“This is my wife, Y/N. The appointment is in my name, but she will be your patient today.”

“I see. Mr. Childress, may I, ah, see you in my office for a moment?”

The two men bade you wait in the front room while they discussed your health in the doctor’s private office. That didn’t stop you from listening at the door, though.

  
~~~~~

McCoy poured a small glass of brandy for his visitor and invited him to sit, but the other man was clearly in a hurry and refused it. Not wanting to be wasteful, he shrugged and downed it himself.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was an appointment for you. It’s for your wife?”

“Yes, I believe that is what I just said in the waiting room. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a very busy man—”

“I’m...not really a woman’s doctor, Mr. Childress,” McCoy said.

“What are you? They told me you were a general practitioner.”

“I am.”

“Does that not include females?”

“Well, yes, technically. But—”

“Then, what is the problem?”

McCoy debated whether to tell Childress the truth — that his main line of work was digging out bullets and providing alibis for both his crooked law enforcement friends and his outlaw acquaintances, as well as prescribing various dubious cures for the cases of venereal disease so popular in these boom towns — but if he didn’t know already, maybe he shouldn’t. The only women he ever really saw were the ones who lived on the second floors of the saloons, and that was only when their preferred provider was so overwhelmed with clap cases from a cattle drive that they had to go elsewhere.

Not that he was incompetent or unknowledgeable when it came to providing more routine medical care. That just wasn’t what paid the bills.

Childress was offering him payment in full up front, though, and in actual silver instead of the usual produce, poultry, or IOU. After a moment of consideration, McCoy agreed.

You heard footsteps crossing the floor then and hopped back to where they’d left you by the window.

“Y/N,” Ben said, “This is Dr. McCoy. He’ll take good care of you. I need to meet with one of my suppliers now. LaSalle will be by to drive you home when you’re finished. Be a good girl for the doctor now,” he admonished. He pecked your forehead and headed out, leaving you alone with this smiling stranger, who waved you in and bade you sit down.  
  


~~~~~

“Well, Mrs. Childress, what seems to be the problem?”

You chuckled. “Didn’t my husband tell you? You two were in there for a while. I’m...what does he call it? Neurotic? Difficult?” You smirked.

“You have good hearing, my dear,” McCoy said, hinting that he was well aware you’d been listening in. “He did. He also requested that I give you a thorough physical. I’ll need you to disrobe — not entirely, just your outerwear. You can use the partition if you’d like. I’ll be right back.”

You sighed. Undressing was no simple task, but if this would help get Ben off your back, you were willing to comply. You were a bit surprised — you’d been more expecting an interview of sorts — but maybe this was preferable. You were vaguely aware of what could happen to women with “mental frailties,” and southern gentlemen weren’t exactly known to be understanding of the feminine perspective. If it did turn out you were going to be subjected to some kind of unnecessary treatment, it was probably better to be given a tonic you could pour out the window than locked away in a yellow-wallpapered attic to “rest.” Of course, again, who knew — that might still be coming. 

You removed your jacket, your skirt, and your bustle pad, undressing down to your bottom layer of underclothes, and then stepped out from behind the partition and awaited the doctor’s return.

He came back in, and his eyes widened a bit. You hadn’t much noticed before, and now you weren’t sure how you’d missed that they were a very bright blue that contrasted nicely with his tanned skin. If you weren’t so annoyed by the situation, you might have called him attractive.

McCoy cleared his throat. “Take a seat on the exam table, please.” You sat on the edge of the table and he pulled up a stool. Putting an a head mirror, he began checking your eyes and ears, then your throat. His hands were warm and surprisingly soft, and you shivered involuntarily.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yes.” You weren’t sure, but it seemed like the hint of a drawl you’d thought you noticed earlier was a bit heavier now. His eyes, too, were piercing this close up, and you felt somehow even more undressed with them focused on you.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he commented.

You smirked. “Should I be?”

“Well, maybe if you keep up that wise-acre routine. I’m going to check your reflexes now.” He scooted back and took hold of your ankle, resting it on his knee. He was working his hands up your calves now, feeling and searching, for what you weren’t sure. It was still more interest in your lower half than your husband had shown in weeks, or even months, and between the doctor’s strangely gentle touches and his appearance in general, you were feeling unexpectedly flustered. His hand brushed the inside of your thigh then, and you let out an involuntary sigh.

His eyes flickered back up to your face, and he studied you for a moment, as though looking for a particular reaction. Whatever it was, he must not have found it, because he turned his attention back to the examination.

“Okay. Now to check your lungs. Can’t be sending you home with undiagnosed consumption,” he drawled.

You bit your lip, fighting down another surge of arousal. There was that accent again. The fact that it definitely seemed to be getting even stronger the more he examined you was interesting to say the least. You tried to think of something innocuous you could ask him to hear it again. Just to confirm that your senses were accurate, of course, not because you were wondering if it might get even thicker than this, and exactly what circumstances might cause that to happen.

You felt his hands at your back then, loosening your stays, and you jumped a little. “What are you doing that for?” you demanded.

“I need to get to your skin.”

Your face heating, you let him loosen you the rest of the way down and then slide the corset up and over your head, leaving only your thin chemise behind. He slid a warm, smooth hand up your back. “Now you’re going to feel something cold.” You shivered as you felt the cold metal of a stethoscope pressing against your bare flesh.

“Breathe in,” he instructed.

You did as directed, trying hard to relax despite his soft touches.

“Very good. Now exhale.” You complied.

“Your heart’s going like crazy, my dear,” he observed. “Are you sure there isn’t something making you nervous?”

“No,” you lied.

He laughed. “That’s alright. A lot of people get nervous in hospitals and doctors’ offices, you know. You don’t have to lie. I can tell enough by your body and how it’s responding.”

“Are we done here?”

“Almost. There’s just one more thing.”

“What?”

He chuckled. “I did the basic checkup. You’re in perfect physical health, which I’m sure you knew. But your husband seems to think there’s something else the matter.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.”

“Tell me, did he tell you how hysteria is diagnosed and treated?”

“No.”

“He probably doesn’t know himself.”

You smirked. “Hm. That’s not unlikely.”

“Do you?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “But I never seemed to have any problems until we moved to this hellhole. I assume you’ll give me a bottle of, oh, some kind of tonic made of celery and dope that I’ll promptly discard?”

McCoy laughed. “Not quite.” He could see why you’d been brought in; your sarcasm probably wouldn’t appeal to a humorless egoist, as he’d heard your husband was. It suited him just fine, though. And while he suspected Childress probably did have in mind some kind of laudanum concoction, that wasn’t what you were going to get from him. Your spouse might have wanted to control your attitude with medication or intimidation, but he had a much more effective way to cure what he guessed was ailing you.

“Hmm. I don’t personally suspect there’s anything the matter with you mentally.” The drawl was really coming through now, confirming your earlier suspicions, and reminding you of your earlier curiosity. “I’d be more concerned if you enjoyed it here,” he chuckled. “Your husband was quite insistent, though. Now, it’s hard to make this diagnosis just from sight...I’ll need you to fully disrobe from the waist down.” He brought over a blanket, probably for modesty’s sake, and set it beside you. He then turned around, perhaps to give you some privacy, and started unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up, revealing tanned and lightly furred forearms.

You definitely weren’t so sure about this, but again, if it meant enough corroborating evidence for a possible train ticket back to California, you’d comply. He was a doctor, after all. He probably knew what he was doing.

You spread the blanket he’d brought over your lap and cleared your throat to let him know you were finished. He bade you lie back on the table and get comfortable.

You still weren’t sure exactly what to expect, but when you felt warm hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you gently, you got a pretty good idea what was about to happen.

“Doctor...?”

“Shh, my dear. No need to worry. This is a perfectly common procedure. I just need to check your organs.” He tested you with one finger and hummed lowly. “Hmm. Normally I’d use a lubricant, but you don’t seem to need one.” Your cheeks heated again, both at his noticing how wet you were and his hot drawl adding to that situation.

“Alright, I’m starting the internal examination now. Just lie back and try to relax.”

Slowly, he inserted a finger. You weren’t used to the sensation, and you reflexively clenched around him. “Mm, you’re very narrow,” he remarked. “Wait a minute...have you and your husband never...?”

“We have,” you said rather breathlessly. “He’s just...not very interested.”

“Apparently. And also, I would guess, not very well endowed.”

You huffed a chuckle, but that quickly turned into a gasp as he added a second finger, stretching you a bit.

“How is that, my dear?”

“It’s alright.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“No.” Uncomfortable was not the word you’d use.

He curled his fingers slightly against your walls, like he was searching for something, though you couldn’t guess at what. It had taken you a while to catch on, but you were keenly starting to suspect this was no longer part of a legitimate doctor visit. With what he was doing below your waist, though, you couldn’t find it in you to complain. Slowly, he started slipping his fingers in and out of you, continuing to curl them here and there against your walls in a way that made you want to cry out. And then it felt like whatever it was he’d been looking for, he found. You bit your lip, trying not to react too obviously as his fingers rubbed and pressed something inside of you that sent a bolt of intense pleasure through you. Despite your efforts, though, a soft moan did escape, and he commented immediately.

“It’s alright, my dear. It helps me to hear you, actually. Does this feel alright?”

“Yes,” you admitted with a slight whimper.

He smirked in satisfaction as he kept up the rhythm, slow but persistent and pressing deeper. “What does it feel like?”

“Um, warm,” you gasped. “And...tense...and...oh...”

“Would you describe it as pleasant?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you sighed, realizing too late what you’d just admitted to.

He smiled. “That’s fine, my dear, just fine.” He added his thumb then, circling the sensitive bud above your entrance. You must’ve been ridiculously wet, judging from how effortlessly his fingers were slipping and sliding over you. It felt incredible. You hissed in a breath, fighting the urge to arch your back into his touches.

“How about that? Any discomfort?”

“You know there’s not!” you gasped, writhing a little despite yourself.

He was no longer completely calm, either, and you could see small beads of perspiration on the sides of his face as well as a noticeable bulge in his pants. You knew what he was doing was extremely inappropriate, but it was also the best thing to happen since you’d gotten to Nevada and you couldn’t quite bear to ask him to stop.

“So wet, honey,” he hissed lowly, continuing to circle your swollen clit teasingly. “Is this for me? Hm?”

You hated to admit it, but it was. Between his thick fingers caressing and opening you and his other warm hand just under your chemise, teasingly straying toward your chest, you were really hopelessly turned on. The tenting in his pants was growing, too, and with it right at eye level, you couldn’t help thinking about what was on the other side of that fabric. Sex with your husband was infrequent at best and typically over about as soon as it began, which had heretofore been alright with you. You were realizing now, though, that it was possible it could be quite different with a different partner. It may have been deeply wrong, but this man was doing more for you in 5 minutes with one hand than your spouse had done with his whole body and an entire wedding night.

“You want to move, don’t you?” he observed. “It’s alright. You won’t shock me, I’m a doctor.” He smirked and bent over slightly. “Do it. Show me how much you like my hands on you.”

This guy was arrogant as fuck and definitely crossing so many lines now, but he wasn’t wrong. You whimpered, still struggling to hold on to a shred of your dignity.

“Do it,” he squinted and hissed, rubbing your clit and g-spot just the right way at the same time.

It was too much. You moaned in defeat, arching your back and grinding onto his hand shamelessly despite yourself, panting as he continued his ministrations.

“There, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Verrry good.” He stroked your hair while picking up the pace of his rubbing. You cried out again, clenching around him as his teasing voice and relentless hands pushed you nearer to the edge. You were vaguely aware that you’d opened your legs wider, giving him full access and telegraphing just how much you were enjoying his attentions.

McCoy was almost beside himself at this point, watching this beautiful woman on his table coming completely undone just at his touch. It had been a long time since he’d made love to anyone — he didn’t care to risk one of the various diseases that gave him half his clientele, and marriage was an even riskier venture — but he knew very well that if he could get these reactions out of you with just his hands, you’d be a wailing mess if he were to involve his mouth or his cock as well. His dick throbbed painfully in his trousers at the thought of you writhing underneath him, stuffed full of his cock and begging him for more, to fuck you a little harder, a little deeper. And he would oblige. Oh God, how he would oblige.

He must’ve sensed your last thread of control about to break, because just then, he reached over with his left hand and slowly rolled up your chemise, exposing your breasts to his gaze. He apparently liked what he saw. Groaning a soft curse and furrowing his brow, he took hold of one and then the other, caressing them and squeezing lightly. Bending down, he kissed one, trailing his hot tongue around the nipple and biting very gently. You let out a louder moan this time, beside yourself with pleasure. He sat down behind you on the table and lifted you back against his chest, continuing to work your pussy with one hand and your breasts with the other. You gasped as you felt a sizable erection pressing into your back. He answered by whispering in your ear, his voice now a deep, thick drawl and his smirk evident in his tone.

“There, honey. That’s right. Good girl. Ride these fingers,” he murmured as he continued to stroke you and you moaned and bucked against his hands. “Look at me. Can you do that, honey? I want you to look at me while I make you come. Okay, sweetheart? I’m going to make you feel so good, honey, so good. Ready?”

You must’ve looked doubtful because he took hold of the back of your hair, winding his fingers into it and gently but firmly pulling your head back so you were compelled to look right into his eyes as he stroked you.

“Doctor,” you cried softly.

“That’s it, honey,” he whispered. “When I tell you to, I want you to come for the doctor. Can you do that, sugar?”

“Yes, doctor,” you fairly sobbed.

“Good, sweetheart. Now come for me, beautiful. There, that’s right. Look in my eyes and show me how you feel when you come.”

True to his word, your body was flooded with pleasure, and you cried out softly as you started to tumble over the edge. The eye contact made it even more intense, and he nodded his head in approval, smiling as he continued to whisper filthy encouragement about how beautiful you looked being fucked by his fingers, how you were taking them so well, and how warm and good you felt around them. That you were made for this, for his hands between your legs and his mouth on your beautiful tits. For a few moments, nothing mattered except those eyes, that filthy accent, and the feeling of his stronger body holding you firmly in place while those relentless fingers slipped in and out of you, making you cry and thrash.

One way or another, he was going to have you, he’d decided. It didn’t matter if it was in his bed or on this table, or bent over his desk and taking him from behind in front of a mirror, he was going to have you wrapped around his cock and looking at him this way while he fucked you silly if it was the last thing he did. As far as he was concerned, a beautiful, hot-blooded woman being neglected in a town so full of lonely men was a bigger crime than anything his shady clients got up to. But one thing at a time. “Good girl, honey,” he cooed, as your spasms subsided and you quieted down. He held you against him for a few moments as you recovered, stroking your hair again. “Mm, you did so well, my dear,” he whispered.

You clung to him for a few moments, still panting and dazed from what you’d just experienced. You looked down, your cheeks blazing, not quite believing you’d just done what you had. It would have been shocking enough with your own spouse, but you’d just let someone who was basically a perfect stranger do absolutely obscene things to your body. At least you were pretty sure they were obscene. And even worse than that was the realization that you weren’t disgusted. Oh no, far from it — you wanted _more_.

After a few moments, the doctor kissed your forehead and released you, walking over to his desk and picking up his pipe. He sat down again on the stool next to you, those eyes studying you again.

“You did verrry well, Mrs. Childress. How do you feel?”

You took a deep breath and swallowed. “Um, tolerable,” you stammered and swallowed. “Quite tolerable.” Your face was still very hot, and you were trying, rather unsuccessfully, to compose yourself.

He nodded, chuckling very slightly as he lit the pipe. “You should know it’s a chronic condition,” he said, clenching it in his teeth and waving out the match. “You’ll likely need ongoing treatment. No doubt you’re probably too timid to come back on your own, though. No, I think I’ll need to recommend a regular regimen of therapy to your husband.” He didn’t really think you were especially timid, but there was something powerfully appealing about your pompous husband delivering you to him on a regular basis for him to play with.

“For what it’s worth, I’ll be telling him that you’re of perfectly sound mind, but with one of those ‘mysterious female problems,’ as they say. He likely wouldn’t know the difference between one or another of them.

“In the meantime, take this with you.” He handed you a bottle of some kind of tonic with a picture of celery on it. “It should look nice and official in your medicine cabinet. Though I strongly doubt you’ll use it. And I’ll be seeing you soon, hm?” He stroked the back of your head and took hold of it for a moment in the same way he had moments earlier. He quirked an eyebrow and smiled, those eyes searching yours. “Don’t forget.”

You and he both knew there was little danger of _that_ happening, though.


	2. A Few More Ounces of Prevention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader decides whether she wants to continue Dr. McCoy’s somewhat unorthodox form of therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much more of the same here. Btw, if you’re unfamiliar with Victorian-speak, “hysterical paroxysm” was a medical term for lady-orgasm. Bones is kinda naughty. :)

For the next week you went back and forth, trying to decide whether to consider yourself “cured” or to seek further treatment from “the good doctor,” as your husband was now referring to him. (If he only knew.) When you initially got home from the appointment — after you’d regained the ability to look Ben in the eyes, at least — you’d firmly resolved that that was it — that had to be the one and only time. For as much as you felt a lot better since your visit, you knew what you’d done with Dr. McCoy was well outside the realm of what could be called legitimate medicine, and you couldn’t quite reconcile the you that had come out behind those closed doors with the you that had made those vows on her wedding day, that had gone to Sunday School, that sang in the choir back in California (though you’d certainly done some singing here in Nevada now as well).

The underlying circumstances, of course, hadn’t changed. You were still stuck in Pioche and would be until Ben felt he’d made enough of a profit to justify leaving. At which point he might move you back to San Francisco, but he might also just as easily decide on some other random village in the middle of nowhere. And wherever you ended up, he’d probably continue to put his work well ahead of his relationship with you. History, after all, was the best predictor of the future. Did that make what you had done acceptable, though?

Try as you might, though, the memories weren’t going anywhere. Every time you undressed, you remembered the way Dr. McCoy had looked at you when he’d first seen you disrobed in the exam room. Every time you washed, you couldn’t help imagining it was his hands teasingly running the soap over you instead of your own. And after the lights went out, with Ben snoring next to you in his hermetically sealed union-suit, you tried not to imagine what it would be like in another bed, being held in a warm embrace the way the doctor had cradled you after he’d gotten you to cry out his name in ecstasy.

You didn’t _have_ to go back. To his credit, McCoy had given you an “out” after all, telling Ben you were perfectly sane, just suffering a classic case of hysterical paroxysm (drawing, as predicted, a bewildered stare and quick change of subject from your husband). As the days went by, though, and the loneliness started to creep back in, your resolve started to weaken.

For his part, McCoy was almost regretting giving you that out. For as dominant as he may have been, he was only human, and it wasn’t every day an attractive woman came into his exam room needing the kind of relief you’d gotten from him. As soon as you’d walked out the door, he’d gone into his private office and taken care of himself, coming ridiculously fast and hard at the memory of you on his table, soft and wet and moaning under his hands, and your scent still lingering in the air. Every night after that, too, had ended the same, him considering everything he wanted to do to and with you while touching himself and wishing your hands were on him instead.

You did see him in town once that week, on your way to tea with Stella Mudd, the mayor’s wife, no less. Your cheeks had blazed as you’d tried to think of what, if anything, to say. He’d merely smirked and tipped his hat, those blue eyes shamelessly fixed on yours the whole time. You may have been the wife of a respected businessman, a pillar of the community, but he knew you better than that, didn’t he? Stella and Ben and the rest of them expected you to be a respectable presence at ladies’ luncheons and teas and the cutting of ribbons at the new Million-Dollar Courthouse, but where you really belonged was in his exam room, or better yet, on his desk or in his bed, so much hot-blooded flesh responsive under his hands and eager for more of everything he had to give. 

Eventually, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You informed Ben that you were having cramping troubles again, and that you wished to see if the doctor could help. He agreed, just glad you’d been in a better mood and hadn’t been interrupting or snarking at him as much. He phoned up the doctor, and as luck would have it, he had an opening for you just that afternoon.  
  


~~~~~

You barely even had to cross the threshold, and there he was, ushering you in and away from the curious eyes of your driver. “Oh, Mrs. Childress, so very nice to see you. Won’t you come in? How are you feeling today? Better since your last visit?”

Your cheeks heated like crazy and you looked down. You nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I do for you today?”

You stared at him. Was he really going to make you ask?

“Um, the ah, I guess... treatment for...that diagnosis you made?”

“Oh. Remind me, what was it again?”

You looked down, barely managing to squeak out, “Hysteria?”

“Ah. The tonic! Of course.” He reached up to his shelf and pulled down a bottle of the celery potion for you. “Anything else?”

You stared at him for a few moments, expecting some kind of additional reaction or acknowledgement, but all he did was smile placidly and look back.

You had no idea what was going on, but you’d never felt so embarrassed. You shoved the bottle back onto the shelf and turned to run. A thin but strong arm appeared around your waist then, pulling you back into a solid wall of lean muscle, and a low voice drawled in your ear.

“Oh now, where do you think you’re going, my dear?”

Your cheeks blazed at that pet name, but you persisted in struggling. “Home! Let me go!”

“Oh no,” he laughed. “These visits are very important. I can’t just send you home without the proper treatment. Old Ben wouldn’t be happy, now would he?”

“You gave me the stupid tonic!” you said. “Now let me go. I didn’t come here for you to entertain yourself at my expense!”

“Oh? What _did_ you come here for?” You looked up at him and he grinned. The fucker was clearly enjoying this. You tried once again to bolt, to no avail.

“Do you really think you’re going to get off that easily, my dear? After what I found at your last visit? After the way you looked at me in town the other day?” His voice had dropped an entire octave with that last assertion, and the way he whispered it in your ear in that lilting gentleman’s accent sent a bolt of arousal through you despite your annoyance. “Now, stand still and have your checkup, Mrs. Childress,” he growled.

He pushed you gently but firmly up against the wall, pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his much larger ones. Slowly, he rolled up the back of your dress until he could get at the slit in the seat of your pantaloons. “Mmmmm, well, I’ll be,” he whispered in your ear, dragging a single finger slowly through your moisture. “Somebody is ready for her visit.” You whimpered, annoyed that he was teasing you but afraid that if you said too much he’d stop. He continued caressing you, using his weight to hold you in place as he teased his fingers all around your folds.

“You _have_ missed this, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just get...kind of wet sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything!”

“Ohh, really? And swollen, toooo?” he hummed, the drawl picking up more steam. His scent of pipe smoke and bay rum was now enveloping you, and you could feel the rumble of his approving growl like the purr of an animal at your back. You whimpered a little louder as he circled your entrance teasingly, gathering moisture and then easing a thick finger up into your heat. It was too much. You gasped and arched your back against him despite yourself. “Mmm,” he chuckled in satisfaction. “I don’t even need my stethoscope to know your heart is racing, my dear,” he teased, right before kissing wetly just behind your ear.

“Doctor!” you sighed, unable to hold it in any longer. You ground against him and moaned in defeat.

“Mmm, I have missed you.” You looked at him in mild surprise. “Oh, it’s very satisfying to feel a woman be restored to good health right under my fingertips. Although the fact that you’re back tells me you may still need some more tending to, hmm?” He grinned and bounced slightly. ”Now,” he said, loosening his hold enough to steer you toward the examination room, “Suppose you come with me and we get to the bottom of what’s ailing you?”

You had just enough composure at this point to keep your knees from buckling, so you agreed, letting him lead you into the examination room.

  
~~~~~

Dr. McCoy looked you up and down as he shut the door. “This is a different dress than you had on the other day, isn’t it, my dear?”

You looked down, a bit embarrassed. It _was_ different. Instead of the dark brown you’d worn on your first visit — a plainer, everyday dress — this one was a more flattering shade of [your favorite non-brown color to wear] with a cut that suited your figure better. You’d been hoping he might notice, but maybe not necessarily call you out on it.

“I see,” he smiled. “Well, you look lovely,” he drawled. “I’ll need you to disrobe, though.” He turned around, rolling up his sleeves again and then adding, “Entirely this time.”

You stared. “Aren’t you going to leave like last time? To give me privacy?”

He smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “So modest!” he teased. “That’s very becoming. No need to worry, though, my dear, I’m a doctor. When I peek, it’s only in the line of duty.”

Your cheeks flushing again, you rolled your eyes and started to disrobe, not trusting whatsoever that he wouldn’t peek for less professional reasons anyway. When you finally got down to your bottom layer, you took a deep breath, removed that as well, then sat down on the table with the blanket completely covering you.

He turned around and chuckled at your modesty.

“Alright, my dear. I’ll start by taking your vitals.” He brought out his stethoscope again and pressed the cold metal to your back. You squirmed, both from the chill and your impatience. He’d gotten you so worked up in the waiting room and now he was going to make you wait while he ran these silly tests? There were better ways he could test your lung function, you thought as he sat before you, eyes fixed on yours and lip pouting slightly as he ran his smooth hands around your neck.

“Alright, everything seems to be in order,” he finally said. “Lie down for me now, my dear.” You obeyed instantly. “Now, what did we do for you before?” he asked teasingly. “Was it this? He gently pushed your legs apart and ran his smooth hands up the insides of your thighs.

“Yessss,” you sighed, nodding vigorously. He chuckled at your eager reaction.

“And then what? Hmm...” He tapped his chin. “Maybe I should go check my notes.”

“Dammit, doc,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Oh? Well, if you could just remind me, that might save us some time.”

“I can’t say those things out loud!”

“No? Why so embarrassed, my dear? This is your health we’re talking about here. You’ll need to learn to speak up for yourself, it’s for your own good. Now, remind the old country doctor just what he did for you the last time to help you feel better.” He smirked at you, his blue eyes twinkling with sadistic humor.

“Is that what you get out of this?” you scoffed, looking right at him. “Me getting all flustered and embarrassed? Seems like there are better ways you could have fun here, doc.”

His grin grew by an order of magnitude at that, and he leaned in closer to you, quirking an eyebrow. “Well now, what kinds of ways do you have in mind, sweetheart? Are you offering to reciprocate?” His voice was suddenly much lower and the drawl heavier.

You bit your lip. “Well, I just meant...”

McCoy considered. “Hmm, I might have an idea.” He went over to the door and checked the deadbolt. “Just in case. I could get into some trouble for this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, like you aren’t already at that point.”

“Don’t be silly, my dear. All of this has been part of very standard hysteria treatment. Or at least it could be explained away easily enough. Old Ben might find this next part a little more difficult to accept, though.”

You supposed it was reassuring to know the doctor at least had some professional standards, even if he was about to break them to pieces.

“Now,” he said, standing in front of you, sleeves rolled up and shirt suddenly unbuttoned enough to show a thick covering of soft brown hair. (When had _that_ happened?) “Now that I think about it, it’s very important that you be able to do this for yourself as well. Especially since you seem to be so shy about speaking up.” You must’ve looked confused because he clarified, “I want you to use your hands on yourself this time, my dear.”

“Me? Do... _what_?...”

“Yes. The way I do. It’s all part of proper self-care.”

“Well...but if I do that, then what is my husband paying you for?”

“I don’t know, my dear. Perhaps we should ask him together? Now, do as I told you.”

You timidly put your hand on yourself. He chuckled.

“Now where is that feisty attitude of yours? No, not like that. And not lying down, either. Here, up on your knees.”

You stared at him and began stammering a protest, but he cut you off.

“It’s better this way. The blood all rushes below the waist. Now do it.”

You did as directed, timidly sitting up on your knees on the exam table. He made an impatient “tsk” sound and took the blanket, leaving you completely bare to him, then lifted your hands by the wrists, preventing you from covering yourself. “Mmmmm,” he hummed, his eyes twinkling as they feasted on your bare form. “ _Nothing_ to be ashamed of, my dear.” He then nudged your knees apart and moved one hand to between your legs, guiding it over your folds. Slowly, shyly, you started to move it yourself. He smiled and nodded. “Very good, my dear. How does it feel?”

“Um, not...bad,” you stammered. It wasn’t that you’d never done this before. You did know well enough how to get yourself off if and when needed. Admitting to that, though, was a different matter entirely, and you definitely hadn’t tried it this way, upright and completely exposed with an audience. McCoy seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, though, so you took a deep breath and tried to relax. If a show was what he wanted, a show was what he was going to get.

The doctor pulled up his stool and sat a few feet away. Slowly, never taking his eyes from you, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, and you watched in shock as he took himself out. You hadn’t expected him to indulge himself this way, and you definitely hadn’t expected what he’d taken out. It was significantly larger than anything you’d seen before, and it was already flushed and leaking with interest.

McCoy smirked as he saw your expression. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart. You can watch, but keep going.” He started running his hand up and down the shaft as he watched you, clearly enjoying the attention and putting on a slight show of his own.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“Good.” You bit your lip. You wouldn’t have admitted it, but there was something incredibly hot about this, the way he was so insistent on watching your pleasure. Also, the fact that he’d made you strip down completely, totally exposing yourself to his gaze, while he himself was still fully clothed but for his erection. You were willing to bet that not even the saloons had shows this lurid, and you shivered in arousal to think that just a couple layers of painted clapboard were preventing the entire community of Pioche from finding out just how filthy Ben Childress’ sweet, upstanding little wife really was.

“Gooood,” the doctor drawled, smiling. “Keep going. Show me how much you like it. Don’t be ashamed. There’s no one else here, and you won’t shock me. Make yourself feel good, sweetheart. Show the doctor how you want to be touched.”

You could do this. Taking a deep breath and willing yourself to be bold, you penetrated yourself with one finger and then ran it slowly around your clit in circles, holding his gaze the entire time. It didn’t take long for your body to respond to the stimulation, and you grew more and more excited as you saw his gaze darken with lust and heard his growls of approval. Every so often, he would give you an instruction, asking you to rub yourself a particular way, or to open your legs more and lean back slightly so he could get a better view.

You could feel yourself getting hotter and wetter, both from your touches and the way he was watching you. You closed your eyes then, just focusing on the sensations and getting more and more turned on. You were vaguely aware that you’d begun moving your hips in rhythm with your touches, and also that your other hand had strayed to your breast and was squeezing in rhythm with your other movements. You moaned quietly as you felt yourself approaching orgasm.

Your concentration was broken by the sound of a chair squeaking against the hardwood floor, and when you opened your eyes, you found that McCoy had gotten up and was now standing right before you, ripping his shirt over his head and revealing nothing underneath but a tanned, darkly furred chest. Before you could ask what or why, he grabbed the back of your neck and pressed himself to you, tongue invading your mouth and hot hands grasping at the flesh on your back and hips. He pushed your fingers out of the way and took over with his much larger ones, working them around your pussy, circling your clit, and pushing them inside you. “Oh, doctor,” you moaned as you started riding his hand, clenching helplessly around his fingers as he started slipping them in and out of you.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he growled in your ear. His accent was out in full force now, and you knew he must be close just from that. “You wanted to reciprocate, didn’t you? Touch me.”

You hesitated, not out of shock so much as the fact that you didn’t really know how. As with other bedroom activities, Ben wasn’t much into foreplay, so you didn’t really know much about how to handle a man. You were also a bit intimidated by the sheer size of him — he was much larger than anything you were used to.

McCoy sensed your ambivalence and placed your hand on his cock, guiding it up and down the thick shaft and showing you how he liked to be handled. “Like this, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Mmmm, mhm. That’s it. Don’t be shy.” He seemed to be producing his own lubrication, which helped your hand glide up and down his length more efficiently. He dropped his head to your shoulder and groaned softly, thrusting into your hand, almost unbearably excited to finally have your hands where he’d been craving them.

After a few moments, you got the hang of it, and the two of you parried moans back and forth, each concentrating on the reactions you were getting from the other and getting progressively hotter and needier. You added a second hand, using the one to work his cock and the other to explore the rest of the vicinity, enjoying the responses you got from him. You twisted your wrist experimentally here and there, and he groaned your name loudly, thrusting into your hand harder and rubbing you more insistently.

“Oh, Y/N, honey,” he groaned, taking hold of your breast and kneading as he circled your clit with his thumb, two thick fingers buried in you and attacking your g-spot until you cried out.

“Doctor!” you cried again, rolling your hips against his touch. The way you were responding to him was almost more than he could stand. He’d settled it in his mind that he wanted to take this slowly, to tease you steadily and thoroughly enough that you’d be begging to have him inside you, but the enthusiasm with which you were fucking yourself on his fingers was testing that resolve severely.

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself at the edge again, and he was right there with you. “Are you ready honey?” he asked. You took your hand away just long enough to spit onto it, and he groaned loudly when you began your ministrations again, this time your grip warm, slippery, and wet. “Ugggh,” he groaned loudly in a mix of surprise and ecstasy. “Don’t stop. Ugh, you’re going to make me come, sweetheart. Your hands feel so good. You want that?” You nodded vigorously. “I want to come right here, sweetheart, right here on your beautiful tits. Alright, honey? Can I do that?”

“Yes, doctor,” you moaned, nodding. “Please. Want you right here. Want your come all over me.”

He cursed loudly, overcome with lust at your unexpectedly filthy response. “Okay, sweetheart, come with me, honey,” he murmured, pressing hot, desperate kisses to your mouth as he thrust wildly into your grip. “Are you ready?” The two of you groaned loudly in unison as he pushed his mouth against yours again, kissing you fiercely and messily.

You felt the familiar warmth in your core as his nimble fingers danced over you. With a prolonged cry of his title, you hung on tight, your whole body shaking as you rode his skilled hand to ecstasy. His hips stuttered, and he groaned your full name into your mouth as hot ropes of sticky fluid spurted upward, landing on your breasts and stomach and spilling over your hand. You looked down and watched in fascination. Was it usually so much, and were men usually this passionate? And if he got this intense from just you touching him, what would he be like in another context? What would it be like to be in his bed, with him pinning you down and your legs wrapped around his slim hips while he talked you into coming around that thick length in your hand? And those eyes focused on yours as he teased you in that filthy gentleman’s accent and buried himself in you over and over?

McCoy leaned against you for a few moments, panting and pressing himself to you. Your knees were cramping a bit at this point, so you changed position, sitting down and wrapping your legs around him, just holding him close. He hummed appreciatively, pressing kisses up and down your neck. For as much as you enjoyed his attentions sexually, this other kind of closeness — and the fact that he also seemed to need it — was about equally satisfying.

“Did you enjoy that, my dear?” he asked, his voice in your ear bringing you partly back to reality.

You just nodded.

He hummed again, and you could feel him smile against your face. “I think,” he said, pressing another kiss to your neck, “these treatments are very helpful for you. Do you agree?”

You nodded. “Not sure I’m the only one they’re helping, though,” you teased.

“Mmm” was all he said as he drew you into a soft, sensual kiss. He then reached over to a cabinet and removed two small linen towels. Softly, gently, he cleaned you and then himself of his fluids. “There now. Better?” he smiled.

“Now I’m still going to recommend at-home therapy. No need to tell your husband. But between visits, I want you to do this regularly. And come back at least weekly. We need to keep a close eye on this condition of yours.” He cupped your cheek and held your gaze for a few moments. He really would have preferred you to stay, to join him for a mid-afternoon nap to bask in the afterglow, but he didn’t want to press his luck. Ben seemed fairly oblivious, and for both of your sakes, at least for now, it was better that he stay that way.

“Should I do it sitting up, or lying down, or...?” you asked, your voice trailing off.

“However is most comfortable,” he smiled. “But one important thing — I want you to think of your visits here when you do it. Can you do that for me, my dear?”

You nodded. That wouldn’t be hard.

“Good girl,” he smiled again. “Oh, and before I forget, here’s this.” He handed you the bottle of celery tonic. “There. I’ll see you a week from now. Don’t forget.”

“Doctor,” you asked, smirking and cocking your head. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll get so good at it that I won’t need this anymore? I won’t need to come to you?” you teased.

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s possible. Some women can be satisfied with just that. If that’s the case, my job is done anyway. However, it’s my educated opinion in your case that that won’t be the case with you. No, I think it’s more likely you’ll just need something more. Something stronger. Something you’ll need me to provide. Do you understand, sweetheart?” He said this last part while rocking back slightly, causing the front of his pants to press against your belly.

“Yes, I understand.” It wasn’t hard to see where he was going with that.

“Good. Here, now don’t forget your tonic, my dear. And if I’m not incorrect, I’ll see you in a week.”

And, of course, he wasn’t wrong. Over the course of the next week, you found occasions here and there to practice “self-care,” per the doctor’s orders. Every time you did, as he’d requested, you thought about your visits, the leather of the examination table and the aroma of antiseptic in the air. The chill of the stethoscope and the warmth of his hands. His hot breath in your ear, and how that accent would get stronger and his language filthier the closer he got to climax. And about the scent of pipe tobacco on his hot skin, his eager hands and hungry mouth on you, and the way he’d given into his desire so completely, holding nothing back. With every self-induced orgasm, you felt momentary relief, but a mounting need for more of what he’d given you. And for more of him.


	3. Several Pounds of the Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. McCoy starts getting creative in his treatments for the Reader, and she introduces him to some therapies he hadn’t considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we’re still in the gutter. :) Thanks for your patience, this one took a while to crank out.
> 
> If you want an idea of the outfit I’m envisioning for McCoy here, it’s based on the actor’s getup in this thing: https://youtu.be/JHOEHnTLUwM. 
> 
> This is all pretty vanilla by 2020s standards, but from what I can gather, what the Reader does was fairly taboo in the Comstock Laws era.

Ben Childress had been accused of many things in his lifetime, but a lack of opportunism was not one of them.

Oblivious as he may have been to the needs of his wife, the man had been around a while and had a good understanding of basic human nature. And while he may have been utterly clueless about what made for a happy relationship, he was surprisingly astute when it came to other men’s interest in female company. At least to the extent that it allowed him to capitalize on it.

Ben had noticed the attention you garnered when you and he were out and about. More importantly, he’d also noticed his main competitor, Cyrano Jones’ general store across the street, did substantially better business on days when the proprietor’s wife and daughter showed up. Pioche’s male-to-female ratio was approximately 8 to 1, and even in regions where it was a more tolerable 4 to 1, it wasn’t unheard of for lonely cowboys to travel 30 or even 40 miles just to get a look at a woman, any woman. Ben realized he’d been sitting on a metaphorical gold mine. Here he had one right under his roof who had drawn attention even back in more populous San Francisco.

“Y/N,” he said to you one day over supper, “I want you to be down at the store more often.”

“Why?”

“Because all you ever do is go about with that insufferable Stella Mudd and those silly hens of hers, doing those useless charity functions. And if you’re not at one of those, you’re shutting yourself up in the bedroom for hours on end. It’s high time you learned some responsibility and started contributing around here.”

You fought to suppress an eyeroll. A few weeks previously, all he’d wanted was for you to leave him alone; now that you were more than happy to do so, he wanted to spend more time with you, and on these obnoxious terms no less. Not wanting to start a quarrel, though, you just sighed and said, “Alright. What time do you want me to be there?”

“When the store opens tomorrow. You may ride over with me. And wear something nice. I know you can look attractive when you want to. Do that business you did with your hair for your last doctor appointment. If you can look pleasant just to go and get your tonic, you can put some effort forth for our customers.”

Fabulous, you thought. Not that you exactly lived for Stella’s charity drives, but as snobby as she was, she was still slightly better company than your condescending husband. Once Ben got a bee in his bonnet, though, the best method was usually half-assed compliance until it found its way out. You were pretty sure that one morning of you asking too many well-meaning questions would be enough to convince him of the error of his ways, and even if not, it was at least free entertainment at his expense.  
  


~~~~~

Childress’ Mercantile was on the corner of Lacour and Main Streets, one of the most desirable locations in town. Coincidentally, it was also perfectly visible from the window of McCoy’s practice. The doctor had been looking out the window while drinking his morning coffee and saw Ben’s buggy go by with you in it, wearing that same dress in what he’d decided was now his favorite color. “Hmm, what’s this?” he murmured. Your appointment wasn’t for 2 more days, and he usually didn’t see you down on Main Street, dangerous as the town could be. He decided to go over and have himself a look as soon as he could clear his schedule.  
  


~~~~~

As usual, Ben’s business instincts were right on target. Within just a couple hours of opening, business had picked up considerably with the extra window dressing your being female provided. Even worse, frustrated by the way he kept treating you as though you didn’t know anything, you’d felt compelled to demonstrate your math skills when totaling up a customer’s order, unintentionally giving him yet another good reason to keep you around. By early afternoon, you were completely over the whole experience and just wanted to go home, away from the unblinking stares of lonely miners and cattlemen. You were considering the merits of sneaking out through the store room when you heard a familiar low drawl.

“Well, good afternoon, Mr. Childress... _Mrs._ Childress?” You turned around and nearly fell over. You hadn’t had to see Dr. McCoy in the same room as Ben since before your “treatment regimen” had started, and that combined with the sight of him in his full three-piece suit with red brocade vest was a little overwhelming to put it mildly.

“Well good afternoon, doctor.” Ben tilted his head. “You look so surprised.”

“Oh, well, I don’t think I’ve seen your better half here before. Usually it’s just you and LaSalle.”

“Yes, I thought it would be good for her to get out of the house for a change. Women take so much for granted, you know, don’t appreciate what we men go through to provide for them! I wanted her to see what a real day’s work looks like.”

McCoy didn’t comment, just looked at you with that barely detectable smirk of his.

“I assume you’re here to check on your order, doctor? It just came in this morning! I-- oh, pardon me doctor. My supplier just arrived. Y/N, Dr. McCoy is picking up a catalog item. You’ll find it in the store room. Excuse me.”

McCoy waited until Ben was safely out of earshot and distracted before leaning on the counter and turning his attention to you. “So, is the missus enjoying her education in the ways of small-town commerce?” he drawled.

“Oh, you think _that’s_ what this is supposed to be about,” you smirked. “I suppose you could call it that. I _am_ learning quite a bit about unscrupulous advertising.”

He laughed. “I’ll hand it to your husband, the man’s got the warmth of a reptile, but he knows how to turn a profit. He even got me to come back over here instead of calling for a delivery.”

“You mean you actually do have a special order?” you asked, trying to keep your teasing at a reasonable level since you were out in public.

“Well, of course, my dear,” he said, proffering a page torn from a catalog.

You felt your cheeks heat at that endearment and tried to cover it with more sarcasm. “Don’t tell me. You’ve heard all the success stories, and you’re going to try your hand at mining as well?”

“Now why would I do that when I have such a lucrative source of silver from right here?”

That foiled your last attempt at a serious expression, and you dashed off to grab his order before any further embarrassment registered itself on your face.

You checked in the back, and sure enough, there was a small, paper-wrapped package from Chicago marked “c/o Dr. Leonard H. McCoy.” You turned it over in your hands for a moment, wondering what it could be. Not wanting to give your husband or the doctor any cause to make comments about female curiosity, though, you resisted the urge to peek and just came back up front.

“Alright, doctor. It looks like your purchase comes to...$5.25?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask what it is?”

“Is it any of my business?”

“Hmm,” he shrugged, “it might be. You never know, if this catches on, you may want to start carrying these in your store.”

“Okay, what is it?” He couldn’t exactly tease you if he was going to be this obviously excited to show you.

McCoy handed you the catalog page he’d been holding, and you read the words aloud. “The ‘Granville Hammer,’ electromechanical personal...vibrator? Hm. Interesting. Can’t say I’ve ever heard...of....” Your voice trailed off as the persistent twinkle in his eyes and the bold italicization of “personal” on the page triggered a lightbulb in your head. There may have been drawings of a woman pressing the machine to her lower back and another using it on her hair, but it was plain as day what this thing was really intended for. You looked at the page and then at him and then back again as it dawned on you exactly what he might be planning to do with his purchase. “Oh my...” you gasped. “Is this what I think it is? What do you need this for?”

“Ohh, I think you can figure _that_ out, my dear. My colleagues say it’s all the rage with doctors in the East. I can’t be falling behind the times just because I’m in this wasteland. Now, what did you say I owe you?”

You took a deep breath. “Okay. Uh...that comes to $5.25. Not a terribly inexpensive toy,” you commented.

“No. But you know I care very much about the health of my patients, and I believe Mr. Childress would want his wife to receive only the very best care from her physician.”

Your jaw dropped at the confirmation that he intended this for you. You tried to think of a response, but all you could do was gape and stammer.

“Now,” he grinned, deeply satisfied that he’d flustered you so badly. “I should be on my way back. It was very nice to see you again, Mrs. Childress. I’ll see you on Friday? Unless your health demands you drop by sooner--”

“Friday,” you blurted out, perhaps a bit too loudly, as a couple of miners looked over at you.

Face mostly sober but eyes still glittering with mischief, the doctor took his purchase and tipped his hat.

~~~~~

Friday finally came around, and with it the so-called “Arizona Rains” monsoon season. Back when you’d lived in San Francisco, you’d assumed the entire state of Nevada to be endless stretches of barren desert. You’d been slightly relieved to see some green in Pioche’s landscape, but neither you nor Ben had really thought much about what might have caused it to get that way. 

LaSalle dropped you off at the corner, quickly rushing off in your roofless buggy to get someplace dry. You climbed the staircase as quickly as possible, relieved to see the door open at the top.

“Y/N!” McCoy jumped out of his seat to meet you as you ran in, bustled skirt dragging in a trail of wet vegetation behind you. “You enjoying the rainy season, my dear?” he asked, grinning but also a little concerned. Before you could answer, he was taking your wet cloak and whisking you toward his study.

“There’s a stove in here. Come in and dry off, hm?”

The doctor’s study was a slightly smaller room, containing a desk, an old leather couch, and several bookshelves. There was a small wood-burning stove in the corner, and it smelled less like antiseptic and more like pipe smoke and old books. You didn’t want to make a mess with your soggy clothing, so you took up residence next to the stove.

“Did you come here from the store?” he asked, hanging your things up to dry out.

“No, thankfully. Turns out even the miners aren’t that desperate to see a woman that they’ll head out in this weather.”

He laughed. “I guess it’s fortunate for me I don’t have to go far at all to see you.” He winked. “Though I _am_ limited to once per week.” He leaned on his desk in that peculiar way he had that made it look like he was simultaneously sitting and standing.

“Well, he does want me back as soon as it clears up. Maybe that’ll help you out some?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I can see what other embarrassing gadgets I can order to give you the vapors.”

“Oh? This one alone not doing the trick? Or have you burned it out from overuse already?”

McCoy laughed. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who enjoyed sparring with him this way, and he enjoyed it immensely. 

“Since we’re on the subject...would you like to see it?” He smiled deviously.

You swallowed and nodded.

Granville’s so-called Hammer was a small thing, a round little metal gadget with a handle on one end and, protruding from the side, a short stem with a bumpy rubber pad at the tip. The bottom of the handle had a cord trailing out, presumably to hook up to an electrical source.

“How does it work?” you asked.

“Very simple. This is just the handheld portion. The cord here plugs into any generator. Like the one here for example. And then...” He flipped the switch and took your hand, placing the tip of your finger on the small rubber pad.

“What do you think, my dear?” he asked.

“It’s odd,” you said. “It doesn’t feel bad, though. Am I...would I be the first one you tried it on?”

“Well, I gave it a few inspections of my own, of course. Safety reasons, you never know with these electrical things. But yes, you would be my first patient to benefit from this treatment.”

“Do you...um...is there a lot of demand for this kind of thing?” What you really wanted to ask was whether he figured on using it on anyone else, though you knew it probably wasn’t any of your business. After all, this was primarily a business arrangement, with your husband paying the doctor to keep you off his back, morally questionable though his methods may have been.

He smiled. “Oh, I’m sure some of these miners will want to see what it can do for sore shoulders and the like. You’re sort of a...special case as far as my patients go. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

You shared a smile.

“Now, I haven’t had the chance to move this generator to the exam room yet. I was actually thinking we could use the study here today.”

You nodded. 

McCoy motioned to the folding partition, for you to disrobe. As usual, you removed your blouse, skirt, and bustle pad, but this time you decided to stop there, just to see what he’d do.

He turned around from where he’d been looking out the window. “Hmm, we seem to be a little overdressed for our treatment,” he frowned. “Are you trying to tell me something, my dear?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” you said.

“Hmm. Well then, maybe I can be of some assistance.” He reached behind you to loosen your stays.

“Wait,” you said.

“Is everything alright?” The teasing smirk disappeared, and for a moment, he was earnest. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I want to. I just...” You took a deep breath. It was still challenging for you to be direct about all this. “I just...don’t want to be the only one without clothes on. I want to see you, too.”

McCoy looked surprised at your response, as though he wasn’t used to being asked for that. “Alright,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “We can do that.”

With that settled, he resumed undressing you, unknotting the ends of your lacing in front and loosening your stays from behind, humming softly as he went. You set about untying his tie, then unbuttoning his brocade vest and finally his shirt. He had removed his shirt the last time, but you’d been a bit preoccupied then, and now you wanted to take your time and really get a good look.

McCoy watched your face as you removed each layer of clothing, wanting to see your reactions. He wasn’t disappointed. With every article of clothing you removed, you looked more and more interested, until finally you got down to the tanned, slim muscles underneath. When you’d finally gotten him bare, you took a deep breath and bit your lip. “As good as you’d expected?” he teased. You smiled and nodded slowly, tentatively running your fingers across his well-muscled shoulders and very shyly stroking the soft brown hair in front.

The doctor let out a soft, low growl. He wouldn’t have admitted it outright, but just the way you were looking at him did something incredible for him. It had been years at least since he’d seen anything approaching this kind of desire on a woman’s face. You were looking at him in fascination, like he was the only man in creation and no one else mattered. Looking at you intently, he took your hand and pulled you down onto the leather couch after him, eager to impress you even further.

“I can’t do, you know, everything just yet,” you said, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about your intentions. “I hope that’s okay.”

He nodded, holding you close to him and enormously enjoying the direct contact now between his warm skin and yours. The two of you stretched out on that couch, the coolness of the soft leather on your back contrasting perfectly with the heat of his chest pressed against your front. His mouth found yours, your tongues gently intertwining and hands exploring territory both new and familiar. “Doctor...” you murmured.

“You know, my dear, you could call me by my first name. I know you know what it is.”

You giggled. “Okay...um...Leonard.” It was probably pretty silly to continue using titles and formalities considering you were pressed up against him without a single shred of clothing between you, but you still felt bashful. First names were usually reserved for people you were close to, and you really hadn’t been in the habit of getting naked with your medical providers prior to this.

“That’s better... _Y/N_.” You shivered a bit at the sound of your name in that accent. He kissed just below your ear, trailing his lips down your neck and leaving a rush of goose flesh in their wake. He ended up at your breasts, where he spent a few more long moments re-familiarizing himself with the region, kissing, teasing, and pinching until you started moaning impatiently.

Reaching over to the nearby table where he’d set it, Leonard picked up the vibrator and turned it on. He ran the rubber pad softly down your side, moving it here and there, and smiling at the flinches and tickle reactions he got from you. After a few moments of teasing, he asked, “Are you ready?” You nodded.

The feel of the vibrating rubber against your most sensitive flesh was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, and your breathing picked up immediately. “Oh my,” you gasped, grasping his arm to ground yourself against the tide of pleasure rising from your core.

“Mmm?” he hummed approvingly. “That good?

You nodded, breathing heavily.

His eyes twinkled as he watched you. “Mm, so it was a good investment after all. I’ll have to write to Dr. Granville and tell him his invention is a success.”

“I’ll say,” you gasped.

“What does it feel like?”

“It’s...ohh...it’s...” You tried to come up with descriptive terms, but all you could manage was some combination of gasps and mild oaths as he ran the gadget over you.

“Ooh, it really is that good, hmm? You know, it has more than one setting, too. For example...”

You were about to protest that you could barely keep your wits about you on the first one, but it was too late. He’d already turned a dial that changed the pattern, making it now alternate between short pulses and slightly longer vibrations. It felt incredible.

“Oh, doctor...I mean Leonard,” you moaned.

“There you go, that’s a good girl,” he murmured, stroking your hair. He pressed gently on the inside of your thigh, prompting you to give him more access. When you responded, he started running the gadget all over the vicinity, drawing louder whimpers and moans from you. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? Don’t be shy, my dear. Remember, you won’t shock me. I want you to enjoy this.”

You nodded. “I need more, though,” you whimpered.

“More?”

“Your...um...” you paused, still embarrassed. “Your...f...fingers, maybe?”

His face lit up at your request. “Ohh? Even with all this modern technology, you still want the tried and true, hmm? Let me see.”

Holding your gaze and maintaining that knowing smirk, he teased a thick finger up into your heat, smiling wider as it elicited a loud sigh. “Mmm, still so tight,” he growled. “You _have_ been doing your homework, haven’t you, sweetheart? I can tell.” He started slipping his finger in and out of you, curling it in the way he knew drove you crazy. You clenched down around him, relieved at being filled, even though you still wanted more.

“Mm, good girl, he drawled as you arched your back and rolled your hips against him. “Is that better? Is that what you needed? Some of me inside you?”

You moaned wordlessly at that.

“Mm, I think so. Maybe we should add a bit more.” He slipped a second finger into you, stretching you a little. You whined, overwhelmed with pleasure. “Mmm, that’s even better, isn’t it?” He started working them both in and out of you, that second thick finger providing just enough stimulation to push you further toward the edge and also really make you crave something else. “Are you going to come for me, sweetheart? Are you going to come on my new machine here? Does it feel that good?”

“Doctor,” you whimpered.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head. “Leonard, sweetheart. Say it.”

“Leonard,” you moaned.

“That’s right, my dear. Only I can do this for you. Isn’t that right? Did you miss these fingers, my dear? Did you think about them when you were by yourself? Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you like me being inside you, filling you up.”

“Yes, Leonard, missed you. God, you feel so good.”

“Mmm, there you go. Good girl. You look so beautiful like this, sweetheart. Feel so good around me. That’s what I think about when I see you at the store, y’know. You underneath me like this, all open for me, callin’ my name as I make you come for me. Maybe you up on that store counter with my hands up your skirt, and my fingers up inside you. Would you like that, sweetheart? Where everyone can watch as I make you mine?” 

You were vaguely aware, as you moaned and writhed from his filthy talk and touching, that the doctor was in quite a state himself, and that he was grinding his rock-hard, leaking arousal against your hip. Not wanting him to suffer, you reached down and took him in hand, rubbing and stroking. He threw your last attempt to focus then, though, by changing the setting again, this time to a stronger pattern that made you throw your head back and cry out his name.

“Mmm, is that it, my dear? Is that the one? Is that what’s going to make you come for me?”

You barely managed to sob out a “yes,” beside yourself as he ran the vibrator in lazy, wet circles around your clit while pumping and curling his fingers in and out of you.

“Mmm, good girl. There you go, sweetheart. Come on my hand, beautiful. _Therrre_.” He kissed your forehead as you followed his orders, grinding against him and wailing softly as you came hard thanks to his relentless ministrations. “Mmm that’s a strong one, I can feel it.”

”God, Leonard,” you moaned. His drawling voice in diagnostic mode was too much, and even as hard as you’d just climaxed, you could felt another one building already. He nodded before leaning forward to kiss and gently bite a nipple. “You’re going to come again, aren’t you? I can feel it. Come on, give me one more, sweetheart.” He licked around your nipple again. “One more time for the doctor. You need to take _all_ your medicine, dear girl.” 

Between the incessant teasing of that pulsing machine around your clit and his skilled fingers massaging you from the inside, and now his mouth on your breasts, there was little else you could do but follow the doctor’s orders, even harder this time. You gave a ragged cry, burying your face against his shoulder in helpless ecstasy as your pussy clenched around him a second time, this time with a rush of wetness that trickled down his forearm. McCoy swore under his breath as you rode it out around his fingers. He loved seeing you like this, loved the look in your eyes and the eager way your body responded to his touch, like it couldn’t get enough of him, but he was about out of his mind with his own need at this point.

You slumped back against the doctor, panting and whimpering a little as you came down from your high. He cradled you against himself, murmuring soothingly and stroking your hair as you calmed down. With his fingertips, he lightly traced up and down your body. When he got to your face, on an impulse, he ran his index finger around your lips, which were open as you panted, letting it stray slightly inside. You closed your lips around it, sucking lightly, not anticipating the reaction you’d get, or that the sensation would nearly make the man spill himself.

McCoy let out a loud groan and rutted his hardness against you. It was then you came to your senses a bit more and remembered that he hadn’t gotten off yet, and that, judging by the rock-hard erection pressing against your side, he must be desperate for his own release.

It gave you an idea. Looking up and holding his gaze, you grabbed his wrist and swirled your tongue around his finger, taking slightly more of it into your mouth. As suspected, this got an even stronger reaction, and he furrowed his brow and growled louder, cursing this time at the feeling of your soft, wet lips and eager tongue flicking him. As much as you wanted him incredibly badly, it wasn’t a very good time of the month to fool around in that way. This might be just as enjoyable an alternative for him, though.

“Y/N,” he protested. “Honey, you can’t imagine what that does to me.”

“Oh? What does it do?” you mumbled around his finger, casually teasing him with your tongue.

“It feels so good,” he gasped.

“Mm, I see.” Holding his gaze and smiling deviously, you removed his finger from your mouth, gave it a small kiss, and then smiled as you scooted down, running your hand lightly down his side as you went.

“Sweetheart?”

“Shhh.” You smiled and put a finger to his lips. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

Leonard nodded, still looking confused.

His cock was fully erect now, flushed with blood and throbbing in your hand when you palmed it. You weren’t sure how much of this thing you could fit in your mouth, but if he had gotten that much enjoyment out of just having his finger teased, you were going to at least try. You ran your hand up and down the shaft, just taking a moment to admire it. McCoy sighed loudly and thrust into your hands, relieved at the contact and turned on beyond belief at the sensual way you were examining him. Slowly, teasingly, you leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the tip, letting your lips linger a bit. He startled and let out a guttural noise that was half disbelief and half fierce need. “Y/N...”

He wasn’t getting off that easily, though, not after all the teasing he’d done to you. You pulled back, running your hands up and down his hips, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin and the darker scent of him here. When he started thrusting again and making soft begging noises, you took pity on him and started again. Stroking upward, you coaxed a bead of clear fluid up to the tip of his cock and leaned down again, capturing it on your tongue. It was a bit salty but also sweet, and you ran the flat of your tongue across him, collecting more of it and holding his gaze as he watched you take in the taste.

McCoy stared down at you, breathing heavily and eyes wide open in a mixture of shock and fierce arousal. Contrary to what you probably thought of him, he wasn’t _that_ experienced. He hadn’t taken that many lovers since he’d come out West, and before that, he’d lived in rural Georgia, hardly a bastion of sexual liberation. He was aware that this was something some people had done, but he’d never had a woman willing to do it for him, and there were also laws against this kind of thing in most places. With your warm, wet lips now engulfing the head of his cock and your soft hands massaging his shaft, though, he was hardly going to raise a moral objection.

“Y/N,” he called softly, in a half-groan, half-whisper as he tried to process what was happening.

“Oh? Are you alright, doctor?” You’d removed your mouth from him momentarily to ask.

“Yes,” he gasped, nodding. “Please.”

You resumed your attentions but then paused again. “Were you trying to tell me something?”

“No,” he gasped. “Y/N...”

“Because if you want to stop--”

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

“Oh. You want me to” — you paused to lap at the head of his cock — “keep going? You like this?”

He nodded vigorously, writhing and groaning at now being the recipient of the teasing.

“Or...maybe you’d like it better like this? Why don’t you tell me what you want, doctor?” You grinned wickedly, loving the fact that the tables were turned and he was begging you for relief now.

“I can’t ask you that, Y/N,” he panted. “What you’re doing isn’t exactly legal, you know.”

“Oh no! Really? I guess I should stop?”

“No!”

“Because I’d hate to contribute to your moral delinquency, doctor. You’re a pillar of our community! And, oh, can you imagine if the sheriff found out what I was doing? The town might never recover from the scandal, why--”

“Dammit, Y/N!”

“What?”

He sat up, grabbed the back of your hair, and hissed in your ear. “Honey, please get your beautiful mouth back on my cock before I lose my mind.”

You resumed your ministrations with no small amount of glee, and Leonard lay back against the couch, moaning in relief. He was panting now and cursing softly as you wrapped your tongue and lips around him this way and that, just to see what reactions you would get. “Oh fuck, honey, just like that,” he moaned as you swirled your tongue around his head and then took him particularly deep. You let him tilt your head this way and that, giving him a perfect view of everything your lips and tongue were doing to him and sucking and licking him noisily.

Leonard was trying not to get too carried away, lest you stop or change your mind. Based on your relative inexperience, he had assumed he’d be taking the lead in all your encounters. He’d been fine with that, but now he was realizing he’d seriously underestimated you, and the thought that he might have found a woman with as adventurous an appetite as his own was almost too fantastic to process. Not that what you were doing to his cock was allowing him to process much of anything right now.

“Mmm,” you hummed, the vibration of your voice earning yet another groan from him.

“Honey, careful,” he gasped. “If you keep that up, you’re going to make me...ughhh...” He needed to be careful, or else he was going to lose control and spill himself right into Y/N’s unsuspecting mouth. Even as much as she seemed to be enjoying this — something he’d never have dreamed possible — she couldn’t possibly want him to do _that_ , he thought.

Little did he know that was exactly what you were hoping for.

Sensing that he was getting close, you started sucking him more insistently, using your hand to work what wouldn’t fit into your mouth and humming in enjoyment as you went. With your free hand, you explored the rest of the vicinity, gently stroking and squeezing his scrotum. Leonard responded with another loud groan of surprise and delight. “Y/N...”

A few more moments of you steadily taking him in and out of your mouth and gently squeezing his balls was all it took to bring him to the edge. Groaning, he tried to coax you off of him, but you shook your head and kept going even more enthusiastically. “Honey, watch out, you’re going to make me...I’m about to...uuuugh, oh _fuck_ , Y/N, I’m going to come,” he gasped.

“Do it,” you hissed. “I want you to.” You were relishing everything about this, the groans coming from his mouth, the way you were making him lose control, and knowing the two of you were sharing something so forbidden. Grasping his hips firmly, you made it as clear as you could that you weren’t going anywhere until you had finished him. Pausing again, you stroked him wetly, twisting your wrist and drawing another loud groan and curse. “Come on, Leonard,” you murmured. “I want to taste you when you come.” And with that, you took him as deep as you could.

Your filthy use of his name was what did it. “Oh _fuck_ , honey,” he sobbed, rocking his hips against your face. Now that there was no question about your intentions, he wasn’t holding back. Beyond the point of control now, he held you by the back of your head and pulled your face against him, groaning and growling in lust as he thrust into your mouth in earnest. It didn’t take long. In moments, he was roaring in ecstasy as his whole body tensed, and your efforts were rewarded as a hot, salty-sweet flood gushed into your mouth.

The sheer volume of his release was overwhelming, but you did your best to keep up with it, continuing to tease him with your tongue as you swallowed around him. A significant amount still leaked out anyway, though, trickling down your chin and dripping onto the sofa. He didn’t seem to notice, presumably too caught up in his too-long-overdue release and babbling a steady stream of rough praises and curses, much of it unintelligible, but with some decipherable phrases like “sweetheart,” “so hot,” and “so fucking good” sprinkled in. Finally, his body and his grip on you relaxed, and he sank back onto the couch, dazed from what he’d just experienced. You got up from where you’d been kneeling and lay down beside him, waiting for him to recover.

After a few seconds, his eyelids fluttered open, and he rolled over and pushed you on your back underneath him. Hovering over you, he searched your eyes with a very serious expression before pressing a deep, passionate kiss to your mouth. Cupping your cheek, he pulled away to look at you for a few moments.

More than ever, he wanted to ask you to stay with him, to not go home just yet or maybe even at all. For as much as he definitely enjoyed the physical release (and the regular payments of silver), there was something else at play here. Your last two encounters had been passionate, but he’d still been able to write them off as a fling, a good time, a mutually beneficial arrangement. This visit had been something different, though. It had been ages since the doctor had had to confront any feelings like this, and he definitely hadn’t been planning for that to happen in this godforsaken place, and with a married woman no less. Here he was, though, and here you were and he was having to admit to himself that these “appointments” were the best thing to happen to him since he’d left Georgia. He hated to see this one end.

Leonard tried to think of something to say, but all he came up with was, “Where did you learn how to do that, sweetheart?”

You shrugged. “Um, right here, I guess?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

“You hadn’t done that before?”

“No,” you laughed. “What, you think Ben would be interested? He doesn’t even want to see me with my clothes off.”

He chuckled gently, wanting to punch Childress in the face. “Why did you just now?”

“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to? It seemed like something you might enjoy.” You looked at him, a bit concerned. “Did you?”

“No, I did, sweetheart. I really did. I just....” You tilted your head, hoping you hadn’t really messed up and weirded him out.

Leonard took a deep breath. He was trying very hard to find the middle ground between scaring you off with the change of heart he was having and not telling you enough and regretting letting it go unsaid. Sensitivity wasn’t exactly a highly prized trait in a man where he’d come from, and it was even less so on the frontier, and he’d had to fight to keep that tendency close to his vest. He needed to access it now, though, and badly. He needed to find that middle ground, some compromise between his needs and his pride that would let you know how much he enjoyed you without making you feel obligated to him.

Leonard took a deep breath. “I, ah...I really wish you didn’t have to go home just yet is all.” He looked suddenly embarrassed and afraid, like even that may have been too much.

It may have been that he was still a little disoriented from what you’d just done to him. Or, maybe you were just more in tune with him than most people. Either way, all it took was one look at his expression to let you know exactly where you stood.

“You know, it’s still raining pretty hard out there. There’s probably no harm in waiting for it to let up,” you said. You stroked the hint of scratchy fuzz on his cheek, then wrapped a hand around his neck and drew him into a soft, sensual kiss that you hoped would reassure him. It worked like a charm. Leonard took over eagerly, wrapping one hand under your head and clutching your waist with the other as he kissed you intensely for what seemed like hours. When you finally came up for air, he rolled back over and pulled you close against himself, holding you tightly the way he needed to and hoping his body language communicated what he wasn’t yet able to say out loud.

The two of you spent a long time together on that couch that afternoon, enjoying the soft rhythm of heavy rain on the windowsill and the warm glow of the stove on your bare skin, and admiring and affectionately tracing the contours of each other’s body. At some point that afternoon, an unspoken agreement was made that this was no longer a business arrangement, nor was it simply about meeting each other’s physical needs anymore. Your husband may have been miles off on his diagnosis of your problem, but he’d found the correct treatment for you anyway, and he’d even managed to help a second person in the process.


	4. A Little Suffering Is Good for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Well, for Len and the Reader, at least. Maybe not the rest of the town.)
> 
> A different kind of drama hits Pioche, and Len uses some questionable means to achieve his ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is what happens when I carry my smut too far, it turns into trashy romance.
> 
> CW: There’s a bit more about Len’s background here, including a couple of lines about the Civil War. It’s a pretty brief mention, though.

The Arizona Rains let up for a few days after that, just long enough to give the wildflowers a chance to recover and a miner named Korax the chance to insult the wife of an engineer named Scott. This in turn gave the other men at the Overland Saloon a chance to relieve their cabin fever, leading to a full-scale brawl involving most of Main Street. By the time the storms returned and tempers had cooled, Pioche’s tiny jail was packed, 15 miners had been posted out of town, and the sheriff’s pockets were lined with at least a few hundred dollars in bribe money.

It had been a long week for both you and Leonard, and both of you had had to do your part in cleaning up the damage—you by sweeping up shattered glass inside the mercantile, and he by patching up wounded limbs and egos throughout the rest of the town. You’d had the additional fun of trying to cheer up your husband, who had been in a foul mood from the sheriff telling him he wouldn’t be compensated for the damage done to his store’s windows from stray bullets. You weren’t sure whether it was sympathy or guilt that motivated you, but you’d done your best to be kind to him and help out where you could. (It also put you in an ideal position in the event McCoy decided to pop by the store for a visit, but that of course was purely coincidental.)

Unfortunately, McCoy’s main line of work had kept him extremely busy, and he hadn’t had a single chance to visit the mercantile during the week. This was particularly vexing after the events of your last appointment, and by the end of the week, both of you were more or less counting down the hours until your usual meetup time.

This time when LaSalle dropped you off, in his eagerness to get out of the rain and away from downtown, he drove the buggy right through a large puddle, sending a small tidal wave of fresh gutter-water up and onto your dress. Normally, you’d have been furious, but there were far more pressing matters right now, like getting upstairs and out of those clothes altogether.

No sooner had you reached the top of the staircase than a large hand reached out and pulled you inside. Leonard looked at you for a long moment, taking in your drooping bonnet and dripping décolletage and growling lowly before backing you up against the wall and giving you an extremely thorough greeting with his mouth and hands. You responded in kind, kissing back hungrily and running your hands all over his shoulders, back, and front. This prompted more growls from the doctor, and he pressed himself against you harder before letting up and hustling you toward his study so he could make a better assessment of the necessary treatment. Catching up and chit-chat could wait for later. Right now, you were wet and shivering, and with the top of your dress wetly clinging to your chest like that, there was only one way he could think of to warm you up to his satisfaction.

You were just starting to unfasten each other’s various buttons and hooks when you were interrupted by pounding at the front door and the sound of anxious male voices and a loud, hacking cough outside. You and Leonard froze and stared at each other.

“Dammit, who in blazes could that be?” he hissed. “I very purposely kept this morning clear.”

The doorknob started jiggling then, and a loud voice called, “McCoy? Are you in there? It’s important!” Whoever it was apparently needed medical attention and needed it now. Buttoning himself back up and grumbling, Leonard went to answer the door, and for some very poorly advised reason, you followed him. 

You weren’t sure who you’d expected to see, but it definitely hadn’t been the local law enforcement.

“Jim?” Leonard asked, surprised. “What in...” His voice trailed off as he took in the sight before him.

You recognized the men in the doorway. It was Pioche’s young sheriff, Jim Kirk, and his two deputies. One you knew only by his last name, Spock; the other was Hikaru Sulu, whom you’d met on the train out from California, and who had pissed off your husband not only by turning down his “unbeatable offer” on mining supplies but also by suggesting he become a hired gun like himself if he was ever interested in making some _real_ money. You didn’t know Kirk particularly well — Ben had a particular distrust of him, calling him corrupt, but that could just as easily have been on account of his appearance; Ben tended to automatically dislike any man he suspected of using his looks to his advantage, and Kirk certainly had the ability to do so if he chose.

That didn’t seem to be the case right now, though. The sheriff’s usual healthy glow had been replaced by a clammy, greyish pallor set off by bloodshot eyes, and he was slumped between the two men looking like he was having difficulty standing. Leonard lunged toward him to stabilize him, but you kept your distance. Whatever was wrong with him, you didn’t want it.

“Jim, what in God’s name happened to you, you look terrible!” Leonard exclaimed, grabbing him for extra support. “Spock, Sulu, help me get him in here.”

You stood there awkwardly, wishing you’d stayed in the study and wanting to duck back in but also not wanting to make it seem like you had something to hide.

“Oh, why hel- _lo_ , Mrs. Childress,” Kirk wheezed and tipped his hat as the others led him past you into the exam room. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Dammit, Jim, there’s a time and a place, and death’s door isn’t it,” Leonard muttered.

“Bones? You and that one? You old dog, nice going!” He moved to slap Leonard on the back but quickly doubled over into another fit of uncontrollable hacking. Your cheeks blazed. So much for trying to be inconspicuous; apparently the entire world could tell you had something to hide.

The three of them closed the door to the exam room, but not all the way, and you moved just ever-so-slightly closer to the doorway, enough that you could see inside. It wasn’t really invading privacy if it involved your reputation, you reasoned.

McCoy was apparently too deep in problem-solving mode to pay attention to Kirk’s observations or your eavesdropping. “Dammit, he’s delirious. Spock, how long has he been like this?”

“Hard to say, doctor. He claimed to be feeling fine this morning, but Deputy Sulu and I found his buggy pulled over on our way into town.”

“Bones, you still haven’t explained what that lovely lady is doing here,” Kirk interrupted, his mouth full of thermometer. Your cheeks blazed again. No wonder you’d heard so many rumors about the guy. If he was this randy when severely ill, what must he be like in good health?

“Mrs. Childress is under my care for a legitimate medical issue, sheriff.” Kirk looked up at him with a wicked grin. “No, not _that_. Dammit, just keep your mouth shut and let me get a reading.”

“Whatever you say, Sawbones...,” the younger man wheezed as McCoy pressed a stethoscope to his back.

Leonard ordered the sheriff to inhale, then exhale. You had no idea what he’d heard, but he looked terrified. He looked at the thermometer and hissed at Spock again. “You expect me to believe he was fine yesterday? This kind of congestion doesn’t happen overnight. Why in hell didn’t you call me sooner?”

“You know our sheriff, doctor,” Spock replied. “He refused.”

“Dammit, that’s no excuse! He has no business being out of bed, let alone out in this rain.”

“What would you have had me do, doctor? Tie him to his bed and force him to submit to your beads and rattles?”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad idea just this once.” He shook his head. “Well, it can’t be helped now. Spock, Sulu, you two get him home immediately. Don’t stop anywhere, don’t talk to anyone. I’ll need one of you to stay with him until I can get there. And both of you — keep your distance from people for at least 2 days and if either of you has so much as a tickle in your chest, you call me! And don’t tell anyone yet unless you want a mass panic on your hands. I’m going to have to figure out what to tell Childress in the meantime.”

“Two days,” Sulu repeated, looking doubtful. “Doctor, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let the jail go unguarded for that long.”

“Oh, blast it,” McCoy said. “I forgot the jail is packed. Has he been in there since he started showing symptoms?”

“Yes, he was there last night.”

“Then they’ve been exposed as well, and we’ll have to implement the same measures for them. Any of them showing symptoms, isolate them immediately. Keep the rest in quarantine til we can send them home.”

Sulu stared at him in disbelief. “Doctor, you’re talking about letting men out who are charged with murder.”

“Granted, Sulu, but about half of this town could be charged with that. And it’s not worth risking this thing spreading to innocent men, let alone the women and children. Something like this can spread like wildfire in small spaces.” Leonard’s accent was growing stronger by the moment, as agitated as he was. 

“Doctor, do you have a treatment for this?” asked Spock.

“I’ll have to run more tests before prescribing anything. Just get him home and in bed. I’ll be by as soon as I can. I need to make some arrangements first.”

Sensing the end of the conversation, you made a hasty retreat to the study. You heard Leonard shut the door, and the three men headed back out into the rain, Kirk continuing to hack pitifully as they went. 

Leonard came in, swearing under his breath, and sat on the edge of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It sounds like you have a lot on your hands,” you said sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you, sweetheart, but no.” He shook his head.

“It does sound like the cat’s out of the bag a little. About us?”

“Oh, that.” Leonard laughed. “I wouldn’t worry. I’ll chalk it up to feverish delusions if it comes to that.”

Well, that was reassuring. Leonard seemed to be pretty preoccupied at the moment, though, so you figured you’d give him some space. “Okay. How about I can come by later?”

“No, I’m sorry, my dear, you can’t,” McCoy responded, rubbing your still-damp arms apologetically.

Well, damn. It wasn’t his fault, though. “I understand. Um, stop by the store when you can, then? Or even call?” you asked hopefully.

“No, Y/N, that’s not what I meant. I will be calling your house, but it’ll be to tell your husband that you’re not coming home. You can’t, at least not for a few days, until it’s safe. I don’t know for sure yet, but if I’m right, we’ve both been exposed to Tonopah Plague.”

~~~~~

After making a few calls and running some tests on the sheriff, Leonard confirmed that Kirk did indeed have the so-called Tonopah Plague, the name a group of central Nevada miners had given to an aggressive strain of acute pleuropneumonia that was filling up their town’s cemetery. Unfortunately, this would be a lot more challenging to treat than the sheriff’s usual affliction; bullet wounds could be patched up easily enough by any decent surgeon, but the same couldn’t be said for bacterial infections. The usual remedies were bloodletting or various derivatives of camphor and mercury, and McCoy had seen enough complications related to both during his time as an army surgeon to want to avoid them. He also had to figure out a way to ensure Kirk actually stayed in bed as ordered, although Spock, as his housemate, had promised to do his best this time.

In the meantime, it had been decided that you’d be spending the next few days with Leonard.

You were still a little shocked that Ben had had no problem with the doctor’s recommendation. Granted, your marriage was a sham as far as any romance or even friendship went, but there was still the matter of keeping up appearances, and even husbands who spent every hour possible at the saloons to avoid their wives didn’t necessarily want the rest of the town thinking they were being cuckholded. Apparently Ben didn’t see the doctor as being any kind of threat in that respect, though. Either that, or he preferred to lose face over possibly having a plague brought upon his house. In any case, he quickly dispatched LaSalle with a carpetbag full of your things, along with some thoughts and prayers for your health.

The two of you were discreet about it, taking the back route to his modest house on the other side of town, where you were to spend the next few days until he could confirm you were healthy. This was a part of town you hadn’t visited much previously. Despite the silver boom, Pioche wasn’t a wealthy community, and most of the families with means (including yours) stayed close to their homes on High Street when possible to avoid the high homicide rates downtown. Aside from your immediate neighborhood and the mercantile, you really hadn’t seen much of the area, and you stared with some degree of wonder at the rough miners’ cabins dotting the hillsides and the people in the yards around them.

“You look surprised, my dear,” Leonard commented.

“Not really, just interested. Although I guess I didn’t quite expect you to live out here.”

“Where did you think I lived?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I thought maybe in the same building as your office?”

“I do spend some nights on that couch there. As you know, this town can be a little unpredictable, and sometimes it’s better for me to be close by if I catch wind something’s going to happen or Kirk gets a tip. You should be perfectly safe here, though. Spock may need to issue a quarantine, so we don’t really want to be that close to downtown anyhow.”

You were curious what he meant by getting tip-offs of violence and also about the nature of his friendship with the sheriff, but you figured now wasn’t the time to ask. The buggy rolled up to Leonard’s house then, a modest, one-story affair with a wide porch in front. He helped you down out of the buggy with a smile and brought you inside.  
  


~~~~~

McCoy’s house was quite a bit smaller than your own, and it was pretty clearly inhabited by a bachelor. Unlike the heavily decorated parlors with overstuffed sofas fashionable among the society crowd you were used to, this was definitely function over form; the furniture here was straightforward, if a bit shabby, and instead of paintings and portraits crowding the walls, dusty bookcases full of medical texts, a few scattered souvenirs, and a small but extremely well-stocked liquor cabinet sufficed as decor.

Unfortunately, Kirk was a popular man, and within just a few minutes of your arrival, Leonard’s telephone was ringing with requests for house calls. Other cases were starting to turn up all over town, and he made some calls of his own to other physicians nearby, hoping to shift the workload a bit more reasonably so it would allow him as much time as possible with his friend.

“Uh, I’m not sure how long you’ll be here, but please make yourself comfortable,” he said as he packed his medical bag. “I need to go make some house calls, but I should be back in a few hours, hopefully. I know you have your things here, but let me know if you need me to pick something up.”

You nodded. “Is there anything I can do? I’ve done a bit of informal nursing if that would help any.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Y/N, but I’d rather you not further endanger yourself. Not to mention, most of the places I’ll be going...well, they won’t exactly be places a lady like yourself would be comfortable.”

“I’m not sure how much lady is left in me at this point,” you mused, smiling.

“Y/N, most of my customers aren’t what you’d call society people. Some are people like Sheriff Kirk and Spock and Sulu. Others will be at miners’ camps and the cribs on Bush Alley. I don’t think Ben would be happy with me taking you to either of those places.”

“I understand.”

“Just wait for me.” He took your cheek in his hand and smiled. “And try and get some rest, especially if you start feeling fatigued.” Leonard wasn’t exactly looking forward to the afternoon ahead of him, but knowing you’d be there waiting for him when he got back was definitely a huge plus.

As he hitched up the buggy again, Leonard wondered if he should have been a little more honest. It was pretty clear from his conversation with Ben Childress earlier that the man believed Tonopah Plague to be something more akin to the bubonic plague, but after he had continued to interrupt him with questions about what this would mean for his business, McCoy had seen the possible advantage to this misconception and stopped trying to clarify. A plague might seem more threatening, which might give him more time with you.

There was also the fact that when Leonard had said he’d arrange for you to stay with another respectable household in town that had also been exposed, he hadn’t exactly specified that the household he’d had in mind was his own. Thankfully, his cottage was toward the outskirts of town and away from most of the regular traffic, so he wasn’t too terribly worried about nosy neighbors or visitors, but it was still a risky move on his part. He couldn’t see a tolerable alternative, though. A pneumonia epidemic — assuming this turned into that, and there was a good chance it would — could take weeks or even months to get through, and he’d doubtless be busy with patients the entire time, leaving little if any time to see you. And that was assuming he stayed healthy himself, which was hardly a given with something typically so virulent. No, he reasoned. There was a very decent chance this would be the thing to take him down permanently, and if it came to that, he wasn’t going to spend the last days of his life with only sick men and bourbon to keep him company. Clicking his tongue at the horse, he hoped you’d understand his reasoning and forgive him for his deception.

~~~~~

The few hours Leonard had estimated ended up turning into the rest of the day. You kept yourself occupied, though, and even managed to put together some supper with your limited culinary skills. By the time you heard the door creak open, it was well past 9:00, and you’d been a little worried.

One look at the man told you it had been a long night for Leonard, too. The first thing he did after greeting you was go to his liquor cabinet and select a tall bottle with amber-colored contents. He poured himself a shot, and then a second and a third in quick succession. Loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes, he brought the bottle and glass over to the parlor and plunked down in an old velveteen armchair, sighing.

“Hey, I don’t know if you ate, but I made us a little food. It’s in the icebox if you’re hungry.”

He looked up, surprised, then sighed. “I’ll eat it in the morning, I promise. Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not really up to it right now.”

“Understandable. You have quite a buffet in that cabinet of yours,” you teased.

He smiled faintly and nodded. “I wouldn’t be much of a frontier doctor if I didn’t.”

“I take it you’re not a regular at the saloons?”

“Ha, no thanks. I’m not exactly rich, but I can afford better than that cigar-flavored ammonia they try to pass off as whiskey. I’ve made better stuff in a bathtub.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. It’s part of my very noble trade. I don’t suppose you ever tried that celery water I give you?”

”Not really,” you laughed. “But maybe now I will.”

The conversation hit a lull then, and you noticed Leonard’s posture. The tension in his shoulders was visible from across the room, and you wanted to help.

He jumped at your touch.

“Easy there, doc,” you teased, and he looked up. The look on his face indicated he was in no mood for teasing.

“May I?” you asked, motioning to his bottle on the table.

He looked at you in mild surprise, but said only, “Be my guest.”

You’d tasted hard alcohol before. Before his illness, your father had had a well-stocked cabinet of his own, and while it wasn’t exactly proper, he’d taken some pains to ensure his only daughter knew the difference between a decent scotch and rotgut. “Not bad,” you commented. “Could probably stand to age a little more, though.”

He smirked. “I guess it’s good to know I don’t need to worry about you hitting up the saloons.”

“What’s wrong, Leonard?” you asked softly.

He sighed deeply. “Y/N, I trust you know by now the kind of medicine I specialize in. I’m not exactly your typical country doctor.”

You nodded. “I’ve heard a few things. You work a lot with the sheriff and his men, don’t you?”

“Yes. That’s the main reason I moved here. You know what the homicide rate in this town is like. Kirk and I knew each other during the War, so when he asked me to come out and be the physician for him and his men--”

“Wait, you served in the War together?” you interrupted. “I didn’t know Kirk was a southerner.”

“He’s not,” McCoy said, taking another shot and then reaching for his pipe. “He’s a frontier kid from Iowa. But he wound up in my field hospital after Chancellorsville. I managed to save his arm, and I guess he thinks I can fix just about anything since that.”

You weren’t sure why this surprised you. You had assumed Leonard had probably fought in the War — he was the right age, and he clearly wasn’t from Nevada originally — but it hadn’t occurred to you he might have been healing rather than fighting. Not that it didn’t fit perfectly with the rest of his character.

“Anyway,” Leonard continued, “When he took the job here, he sent for me and I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t have much going for me where I was at.”

You nodded. “That makes sense. It sounds like you and he are good friends.”

He nodded. “He’s about the best friend I’ve ever had. And I can’t do a damn thing for him right now but pray.”

You took his hand, wishing you could do something to alleviate his worry. “Leonard, I don’t know the sheriff very well, but he doesn’t seem like the kind to go down very easily. If anyone can beat this, he can.”

Leonard patted your hand and smiled tiredly at you, his eyes a bit bleary now from the bourbon. “Thank you, Y/N. Enough about that. How was your afternoon?”

“Not quite as eventful. I rested as directed. Read a little from your bookshelf here.” You looked at him. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? You might sleep better.”

He took your hand and kissed the back. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight, Y/N. This really isn’t how I’d planned for tonight to go. I just have too much on my mind. I should probably just clean up and call it a night.”

“Want some help?”

“Please don’t take it personally, Y/N, but I’m just not in a good mood for that.”

“It doesn’t have to lead to that, Leonard. I know you’ve had a long day. How about letting someone else take care of _you_ for a while?”

He sighed and nodded, and you led him by the hand to his bedroom, where you’d set up a tub of warm water by the fireplace, along with some of your personal toiletries your maid had packed. “What’s all this?” he asked.

“Well, you’ve had a long day tending sick people...I thought you might be in the mood to wash up a little.” You grinned and nudged him. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, doctor. You can undress in front of me. You won’t shock me.”

Having his own words used against him seemed to knock him out of his melancholy for a moment, and he shot you a look that made you wonder just how sure he was that he wasn’t in the mood. “Alright,” he sighed, the drawl making its first appearance of the night.

Once he was undressed and in the tub, you added some piping hot water from a kettle. Setting up a stool behind him, you sat down and started working a warm washcloth around his shoulders, neck, and chest. Leonard groaned softly at your gentle attentions, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders start to dissipate under your hands.

“Feel good?” you asked coyly.

He nodded. “I can’t remember the last time someone did this for me.”

“Which is disgraceful if you ask me.” You picked up the bar of Castile soap you’d found on his dresser and started washing his thick brown hair. Your soapy fingers massaging his scalp drew more soft groans out of the man, and before long, he was resting his head in your hands, completely relaxed (although you noticed, looking down, that another part of him was getting a bit more tense).

Leonard closed his eyes and sighed as you rinsed the suds out of his hair. You couldn’t help but admire him like this, his slim but well-muscled arms resting around the rim of the tub and his tanned skin almost glowing in the gaslight. He was easy on the eyes even on normal terms, and now, with his hair soaking wet and slicked back, you couldn’t stop staring. 

His eyes flickered open then, and he caught you checking him out. “Like what you see, my dear?” he asked, smirking and quirking a brow.

You looked away and shrugged, bashful at being caught. “Um, let me get some more warm water for you.”

A soapy hand reached out and caught you around the hip. “Wait, I have a better idea.”

“Which is?”

“Body heat,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes. “Come in here with me.”

Leonard was making no pretense of giving you privacy to undress this time, fixing his eyes on you openly as you removed layer after layer of your clothing. Knowing he liked a bit of a show, you went slowly and teasingly, giving him ample opportunity to admire. When you reached the bottom layer, your chemise and pantalettes, he sat up a little, waiting to see what would happen next. Ben had always disapproved of your habit of bathing in the nude — proper ladies kept at least their chemise and pantalettes on — but given Leonard’s current state of undress and his apparent disdain for underwear in general, you figured he wouldn’t mind. He inhaled sharply as you shimmied out of the last garments and approached the tub.

Taking his hand for support, you stepped into the warm water, sitting down and reclining against him. “There, that’s more like it,” he purred. “Now where’s that washcloth?”

He shook out some of your scented bath oil onto the yellow rag and started moving it around your body, spending, you noticed, an inordinate amount of time on your chest. Eventually, the washcloth fell off to the side, and he focused on using just his hands to thoroughly work in the oil. At the same time, he was gently but persistently nibbling your ears and neck. You were trying to honor his earlier statement that he wasn’t in the mood, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so, especially with the growing erection pressing against your back. When he started pinching your breasts and lightly thrusting against you, though, you demanded some clarification.

“Doctor?” you gasped.

“Mm-mm, Leonard,” he reminded you in a heated whisper in your ear, continuing to pinch and knead.

“Leonard. I thought you didn’t want to do that tonight?”

“That was before someone stripped me down and got into a bathtub naked with me,” he whispered again, his accent well on its way to maximum strength from how much your being wet and bare against him was turning him on. He was definitely thrusting into you now, and from the feel of it, fully hard. Any capacity to focus on anything else was dashed then, as large fingers started exploring you underwater.

“Mmm, you’re wet for me, aren’t you, my dear.”

“Wow, you’re particularly astute tonight, doctor,” you gasped. “Who’d have thought I’d be...wet in a bathtub?”

The next sensation you registered was a pitcher full of soapy water being emptied on your head.

“Leonard, what the hell?” you yelled, flipping around so you were straddling him.

“That’s what happens to smart mouths in this house,” he grinned, holding your fists in one hand and pushing your soaked hair back with the other. He growled almost imperceptibly as he took in the sight before him. This was the way you’d looked when he’d first seen you that morning, and he was most definitely not going to be interrupted this time, especially with you now naked, restrained, and struggling in mock frustration against his grip. 

His lips were on you then, hot and desperate. You took turns dominating the kiss, each of you beyond wound up and desperate for each other after all the delays of the day. He was still thrusting against you, and you returned the gesture with rolls of your hips, drawing moans of approval and more forceful kisses from him. He’d let go of your wrists at this point, but you were no longer interested in struggling or play-hitting, instead running your hands up those muscular arms, around his back, and through his wet hair. He followed your cue, groping and squeezing your ass and pulling you against him.

You shifted slightly then, and his next thrust brought the head of his cock right up and pressing against your entrance. You both gasped. 

“I want you, Y/N,” he sighed.

You nodded. “Do you have anything? Like...precautions?”

“Unfortunately, no, at least nothing as reliable as you’d probably want.”

You thought for a minute. “I have an idea.”

You pressed another kiss to his lips and then turned around, leaning back against his chest. Opening your legs a bit, you reached down and took hold of him, moving his cock between your thighs. You shook out more of the bath oil onto your palm, and then reached down into the water, stroking and spreading it over both him and yourself. Leonard got the idea right away and began thrusting against you, groaning in relief at the slippery tightness. It wasn’t the kind of friction he’d been hoping for, but he was still incredibly turned on by being this close to it.

“How’s that?” you asked.

“That’ll work, sweetheart,” he grunted, his thrusts already sending small waves of bathwater onto the floor.

You let him maneuver you the way he needed to, grasping your hips in his large hands and moving you against himself as he thrust his large cock between your thighs. The bath oil provided perfect lubrication, and you bit your lip and moaned as his length dragged back and forth through your folds, rubbing your clit tantalizingly. At the same time, he peppered the side of your face and your ears with hot kisses and growled his approval when you reached up and took hold of your breasts, taking over the oil massage where he’d left off. 

“Oh, honey,” he groaned.

“Leonard,” you moaned back, biting your lip and grinding down against him as he rubbed on you. You probably weren’t going to be able to come from this, but it was still enjoyable, and the way he was groaning and carrying on right in your ear was getting you unbearably hot. 

Leonard’s thrusting picked up speed as he got closer to the edge, and soon he was groaning and cursing through clenched teeth and gripping your hips hard as he pulled you against his cock, finally giving a few final, hard thrusts and letting out a deep sigh as he spilled himself into the water.

He let go of your hips and held you close to him for a few moments, catching his breath, before he remembered.

“Did you come, sweetheart?” he asked, concerned.

“No,” you said. “It’s okay, though. I don’t need to every time.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “That’s Ben talking, isn’t it?” You looked down.

He turned your chin back up toward him. “Y/N, if you can’t get there tonight, that’s fine, but you’re going to at least give me a chance.” You raised an eyebrow, and he thumbed your lip and smiled. “House rules.” 

“Okay.”

“Now, this tub is a bit narrow for what I’d like to do. What do you say we give the bed a try?”

This sounded intriguing. You nodded.

Standing up, he got out of the tub and offered you his arm so you wouldn’t slip on the floor, which was now covered in puddles from your recent activity.

“Lie down on the edge of the bed,” he instructed. He knelt on the floor in front of you. Suddenly it dawned on you what he was intending to do, and your chest tightened with anticipation.

“Now, I’m not exactly a specialist at this. Just let me know what feels good and what doesn’t. And if you don’t like it, we stop, hm?”

You nodded, biting your lip. Gently but firmly, he put his hands on your inner thighs and spread you.

You were still a little shy, especially with him now right at eye level and able to see everything right up close. Leonard stroked your stomach soothingly. “No need to be nervous, my dear,” he drawled. “You’re absolutely stunning from here.” With this reassurance, you allowed him to spread you further, and he took the opportunity to admire the view more, exploring you thoroughly and murmuring more compliments as he went.

“Now, you’re going to feel a bit of pressure.”

What you felt wasn’t so much pressure as a pair of soft lips and a tongue gliding over you very lightly. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

“Does that feel good?” he inquired.

You nodded and whimpered slightly.

Smirking in satisfaction, Leonard continued, licking a long, slow stripe with the flat of his tongue and letting you get used to the sensations. You whimpered in earnest. His lips and tongue had the perfect texture, and you could already tell this wasn’t going to take long.

“Mmmm, sweetheart,” he hummed. “Now I know why I call you that,” he observed, swirling his tongue around your entrance before dipping just inside and collecting some of your nectar.

For someone who claimed to not be a specialist, Leonard was at the very least a fast learner. He seemed to be making a study of it, trying various techniques and levels of pressure to see what got the best responses from you. You merely hung on, grabbing fistfuls of his sheets and trying to keep your sanity as you writhed under his ministrations.

You weren’t the only one enjoying yourself. Leonard had long heard whispers of people doing this, but he’d never had a chance to try it on someone himself (or the courage to even suggest it). After you’d used your mouth on him the previous week, though, he’d been beyond eager to return the favor. Now, with the feel of your thighs trembling under his hands, the helpless moans coming out of your mouth, and the fact that you were both getting off on something so decadent and forbidden, he was beside himself with excitement and lust. He had finally found someone who was as much of a sensualist as he was, and his mind raced with all the other things he wanted to do, all the creative ways he’d thought of pleasuring a partner during the long, lonely years in this town, that he might now try on you. The thought of it made him even more excited, and he gripped your thighs harder, pushing them wide apart and lapping at you more insistently, wanting to give you the orgasm of a lifetime.

You were already well on your way to that point when you felt him enter you with his fingers, first just the one and then a second. He started slowly pumping them in and out of you, curling them against your walls and continuing to tease around your clit with his skilled tongue. You cried out softly, bucking against his face. “That’s it, dear girl,” he hummed. “That’s what’s going to do it, isn’t that right?”

“God, Leonard,” you moaned lowly, trying to keep your noises down just in case.

“No, sweetheart, no whispering this time,” he said, punctuating his words with swipes and swirls of his tongue. “No one’s going to hear us out here. Come on, tell me how much you like it, hm? How much you like me doing these filthy...dirty... _wrong_... things to your body.” He sucked lightly on your clit then, and repeated, “Tell me how much you want it.”

“God, Leonard, yes, I want it, want all of it,” you sobbed, moaning louder as requested and squeezing your breast as you rode his face shamelessly.

Leonard cursed. It hadn’t been long at all since his orgasm, but he was already rock-hard again and needing more relief. While he used one hand to work at you, he had the other on himself, stroking his cock hard and fast, in rhythm with what he was doing to you.

You fluttered around his fingers then and moaned softly. “Leonard, I think I’m going to...oh God, I’m...”

“That’s it, honey, come on, mmmm don’t hold back now. Scream for me, beautiful, scream my name.”

Moments later, you did just that, gripping handfuls of his hair and writhing helplessly as his relentless licking and finger-fucking pushed you over the edge of a glorious orgasm. With a few final strokes, he came as well, groaning deeply against your pussy as his own pleasure took over his senses.

Leonard got up and climbed on the bed, hovering over you. “There, that’s more like it,” he drawled, smiling. “Did you enjoy that, my dear?” The scent of yourself mixed with his own was intoxicating, and you whimpered, nodding emphatically, unable to actually speak just yet. He grinned down at you, self-satisfied beyond measure for managing to render you speechless for once.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he drawled, getting under the blankets and patting next to him.

Leonard blew out the lamp and wrapped you up with himself, holding you tightly. It was still raining outside, but the storm and the winds had let up substantially. You were both exhausted from the long day but resisting sleep, still enjoying the novelty of being able to fall asleep together too much to want the night to end just yet. You lay in each other’s arms, him pressing soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks and you running your fingers sleepily through his chest hair, soaking up the warmth and comfort of each other. Leonard was still worried about the sickness, but your being here had taken the edge off his anxiety in more ways than one, and he knew that with you in his bed, he’d at least be able to get a decent night’s sleep and face it in the morning. 

You lost the battle against your eyelids first, hand and head resting on his chest. As Leonard lay there in the dark, listening to the rainfall outside and your contented sighs next to him, he realized he was very sure of one thing — aside from this plague, he never wanted things to go back to normal. He’d had a few doubts, if he was honest, about bringing you home, having lived alone for so long. They had evaporated, though, as soon as he’d walked through the door tonight and seen you there. He gave you a squeeze and kissed your forehead. There may still be hell to pay after this thing ended, if his exact means for bringing you here were discovered, but he wouldn’t change a thing about the ends they had achieved for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit note: I made a little tweak to the bathtub scene after noticing something that sort of implied Leonard had four hands. :)
> 
> Also, if anyone’s wondering, Tonopah Plague was a real thing (though not for ~25 years later). It sounded slightly sexier than cholera, so I went with that.


	5. Good Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion. Hope everyone here likes fluff with their smut bc that’s kinda what happened here.
> 
> (Also, content note: light BDSM? I’m a square, not sure if spanking counts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, y’all. This one took a while to edit and IRL had the audacity to keep interrupting.
> 
> Btw, I know this is unrealistic af for pneumonia, but Kirk languishing for days would’ve really messed with the pacing of the story. Let’s just say plomeek soup is a miracle cure. :)

It seemed like only a couple hours later you awoke to bright sunshine pouring in through the bedroom window. You were used to a bedroom with heavy curtains that kept most light out, and you startled for a moment before remembering where you were — in Leonard’s bed, with his arms still around you. The memories of the previous night, and of everything you’d done to each other, came flooding back then, and you sucked in a breath as the adrenaline rush bolted through you. Even with as little sleep as you’d gotten, this was still the best wakeup you’d had in a long time, and you lay quietly for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

Feeling you stir, Leonard’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse from sleep. A smile spread slowly across his face, the memories probably hitting him, too, and he rolled over on top of you, his weight resting comfortably on you as he caged you in with his elbows.

“How did you sleep?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him.

“Probably should’ve turned in earlier, but I can’t say I regret staying up. You?”

“Same. What time is it?”

“Probably about 6:00,” he yawned. “Why, you have somewhere you need to be?”

It was too early in the morning to think up a smart-ass comeback for that, so you just smiled and shook your head.

“Goood,” he said, redirecting his attention to your collarbone, which he started nibbling and kissing, his hand casually drifting up your side and eventually coming to rest on your chest. It was then that you noticed he was already about half-mast, and you moaned lightly at the feeling of it pressing against you.

“Like that, sweetheart?” he drawled against your neck. You hadn’t noticed before, sleepy as you were, but his accent was apparently heavier first thing in the morning. There was also the fact that you now associated the word “sweetheart” with mind-blowing orgasms. If you hadn’t been turned on when you first woke up, you definitely were now. You let your own hands start to wander, stroking through his hair before trailing down his front and coming to rest on his growing erection. He groaned against your neck as you stroked him gently, twisting your wrist in the way you knew got him hard fast.

Right on cue, an obnoxious trilling noise sounded from the parlor. Right. The pneumonia. The reason you were here in the first place. You sighed.

“I should probably go check on Kirk,” he murmured.

You nodded. “What time do you think you’ll be back? I can make us breakfast.”

Leonard grinned broadly at that. “Oh, probably a couple hours. That sounds perfect, sweetheart. Then we can pick up where we left off here.”

Plague or not, this was already turning out to be way better than your typical Saturday. Suppressing another surge of arousal, you nodded and smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.”  
  


~~~~~

The sheriff lived on the other side of town, closer to downtown Pioche. He and Deputy Spock shared an elegant but unpretentious single-story Folk Victorian a couple of streets over from where you and your husband lived. Leonard heard the coughing from inside as soon as he set the brake and winced, though at least that meant Kirk had made it through the night. The change in humidity might do him some good, too, he thought, as he hitched up his horse and headed inside.

Leonard walked in just as Spock was helping Kirk sit up for breakfast. The doctor and the deputy exchanged a nod as the latter headed back to the kitchen. They weren’t exactly close to each other, but they were both close confidantes of the sheriff and fiercely loyal to him, and they shared a mutual respect based on that alone.

The sheriff’s fever had improved substantially overnight, but Leonard knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Prior experience indicated it could very easily return by late afternoon, especially since he was still rasping badly and short of breath. It was a welcome respite, though.

Leonard took Kirk’s vitals as the younger man began sipping the thick purple soup Spock had made for him. Leonard wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He still wasn’t even precisely sure where Spock was from, but the man did seem to have a good understanding of herbs and of what Kirk responded to in general. Whatever helped, he reasoned. The sheriff seemed quite a bit more alert this morning and despite the rasping, he was still able to talk, so clearly, something had done him some good.

“How are you feeling this morning, Jim?”

“Apart from the godawful pain every time I try to breathe? Fantastic.”

Leonard winced again and reached for his bag. Taking out a clean syringe, he filled it with the contents of a small bottle and rolled up Kirk’s sleeve. ”Here. This should help with the pain some.”

Kirk’s expression changed from a clenched grimace to a beatific smile as the stuff hit his central nervous system. “Mmmm. Not bad, Bones. You’ve gotten much better at pain relief since I met you.”

“You telling me you didn’t like my towel-biting therapy at Chancellorsville?”

“Oh, on the contrary, it was very, uh, character-building, I think you called it? Also, your informing me that you were a doctor, not a miracle worker, was very reassuring.”

“Well, in my defense, narcotics are a little easier to come by now that I don’t have your side running blockades against mine.”

“Okay, okay. Ceasefire,” Kirk said, attempting a laugh and accomplishing a coughing fit. Leonard grabbed the soup just before it spilled and held it until Kirk had calmed down. “So, what’s the news?” he finally managed. “How bad are we hit?”

“It’s spreading, Jim. Thankfully, not as fast as I’d feared. Spock called the quarantine in time. I made four calls besides you yesterday and reassigned quite a few others. This thing is nothing to fool around with. As long as people stick to the order to isolate, though, and no one tries to open the mines back up or visit the cribs, we should be alright.”

“That last one could be a tall order,” Kirk mused, clearing his throat. “And Sulu?”

“Still in perfect health. I stopped by the jail this morning. No one seemed to have any symptoms, so he let them go.” Kirk made a face. “I wouldn’t worry too much, though. Six of them have already left town, and yes, Sulu collected the appropriate, ah, tributes from their families first.”

“Ah, well, I guess that’s one silver lining.” The two men shared a grin and were then quiet for a few moments.

“Uh, Bones, I have to ask,” Kirk started. Leonard steeled himself for what he knew was coming. “What’s with you and Childress’ wife? That was her I saw in your office yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“I told you, Jim, it’s nothing. She’s just a patient. Eat your soup.”

“Don’t bullshit me, doctor. How many rounds of poker have you lost to me by now? I could tell by the look on your face when I whistled at her.”

Leonard sighed. “Fine. It’s exactly what you think it is. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Well, I’d rather hear you were taking up with someone unhitched, but I guess if you _have_ to pick a married gal. Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

Leonard sighed. “Probably not, no. Look, he brought her to me a few weeks ago, insisting she had this hysteria. To be fair, I don’t think he has the foggiest idea what that even is, let alone what a lot of doctors do for it, but I don’t think what he wanted was so much better.”

“What did he want?”

“My guess? Either for me to drug her or give him the go-ahead to have her put away.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but I’ve seen enough of that kind of thing. A man doesn’t need much in this state to get rid of a wife he doesn’t want around.”

“Do _you_ think she’s ill in that way?”

“Of course not. She’s of perfectly sound mind, but then he brought her to this place. Any woman in her right mind would be miserable here.”

“I guess it’s hard to argue that,” Kirk mused. “So, what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What _did_ you do for her? She’s obviously not drugged or institutionalized.”

“You want me to paint you a picture, Jim? I treated her. It just so happens that hysteria ‘treatment’... well, it involves things similar to what a man and his wife might do. And which between you and me, I don’t think he’s been doing for her.”

Kirk laughed. “And that’s what started all this?”

“Well, I don’t like to brag. But you and I both know I’m a bright young medic with a miraculous touch.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “Apparently. Do you think Childress has any inkling?”

“My guess is no, but I’m not sure if he’s just oblivious or doesn’t care either way. He seems to see her as an inconvenience more than anything.”

Kirk nodded and cleared his throat. “That’s consistent with what Sulu told me.”

McCoy looked up in surprise. “What does Sulu know about all this?”

“It’s a small town, Bones. It just so happens Childress’ man LaSalle and Sulu play cards every now and again, and, well, LaSalle likes to talk if you give him enough to drink.”

“What’d he have to say?”

“Well, for starters, what brought them out here.”

“To get rich off the silver fever.”

“Right. He’d seen what Sam Brannon had done at Sutter’s Mill and figured he’d try his hand at it out here. It’s not a bad racket, assuming you have the capital to get started.”

“He must’ve already been doing pretty well for himself back there.”

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting. Childress himself doesn’t come from wealth. You should hear LaSalle talk about his table manners,” Jim choked out a chuckle. “No, it seems he married into it.”

Leonard tilted his head. “You mean--”

“That’s right. Don’t know if you knew this, but your girlfriend there is a small-time heiress. Childress happened to be a trusted partner of her father’s, and he wanted to leave him the business when he died, but she was part of the deal. Wanted her to be looked after, taken care of, and all that. Childress saw his chance at prosperity and took it.”

“So _that’s_ why he doesn’t seem to care about her. He was only in it for the money.”

“Oh, he does care about her. Just not in the way you or I or any normal man would care about a person. She’s a tool in his mind. Something to be brought out and used when needed and then put away the rest of the time. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Why in God’s name did she ever agree to that?”

“She probably wasn’t given much of an alternative. And Childress can be likable enough, provided you’re useful to him and don’t get in his way otherwise. No doubt her father fit into that category, so that’s the Childress he saw. Trouble is, he only accounted for the financial part of marriage. Ben does fine at that, but as you’ve seen, he’s clueless when it comes to women. At least anything that doesn’t involve making money off of them.”

“And now it’s too late. Dammit. I could’ve given her so much more.”

Kirk paused and stared at his friend, realizing with surprise and some trepidation just how deeply invested he was. “Well... that all depends. Family law here isn’t what it is in California. It doesn’t _have_ to be til death do they part. All that’s needed is meeting the 3-month residency requirement. And, uh, not minding some social fall-out after.”

“You think there’s a chance Childress would go for it?”

Kirk considered. “I think you’d have to be very careful how you played it, Bones. I know his type. A man like that doesn’t take to shame easily. And from the sound of it, there’s already some of that headed his way that has nothing to do with her.”

“Oh?”

Kirk reached for the pitcher of water by his bed, but Leonard beat him to it, pouring him a glass and gesturing to him to continue. “Well, the trick to making money off of booms is you have to get in at the right time. He...waited a little too long. As you know, the silver is already starting to run out, and so are the miners. And so are his profits.”

“No wonder he was so concerned about this outbreak affecting his business.” 

Kirk nodded. “LaSalle thinks he’s going bankrupt. It doesn’t look good. In any case, he’s planning on moving them back to California at the end of the year. Maybe sooner if this outbreak takes a turn for the worse.”

Leonard stared at him, dismayed.

“Now, I doubt _she_ knows that. He hasn’t shared anything else with her from the sound of it, I doubt his ego would permit him to share any of this. But think about it, Bones. That would be convenient, wouldn’t it? He goes back home, she stays here, and he can tell the folks there or wherever he ends up whatever he pleases about her. Wouldn’t have to face any embarrassment here. She won’t get a dime of alimony out of these judges here, but he’ll like that part.”

Leonard nodded, reflecting. “So, you think--”

Kirk interrupted him with a hand on his forearm. “Is that what _you_ want out of this, Bones? She’s nice to look at, but is it worth it in other ways? I don’t get the impression she’s much of...well, I don’t think she’s ever had to do too much for herself, wealth and servants and all. Is that what you’d want in a woman, a wife even?

“In this case, yes,” Leonard said quietly. “And she’d catch on with all the rest quickly enough. Why, as soon as I’m done here, I’m supposed to report home for breakfast.” He smiled and bounced slightly at the thought of it.

“Mm,” Kirk said, turning back to his soup, and then startled mid-slurp. “Breakfast?” He sat up further, struggling a bit now but intensely interested. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me...she’s not actually... _at your house_?”

“Yeah, well...I, ah, may have taken a few liberties there,” Leonard said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I couldn’t exactly send her home to him after you coughed all over her yesterday.”

“And is this with or without Childress’ approval?”

“He knows she’s staying with another ‘quality’ household. Couldn’t be bothered to ask which one specifically, though, so--”

“Dammit, Bones, and you give ME grief for taking risks? I’ve taken men into custody for shooting someone for less than that! And you’ve treated their victims!” Kirk started his laughing/violent coughing cycle again. “Is _she_ on board with this?”

Leonard sighed. “She...doesn’t exactly know that he doesn’t know. I was, ah, sort of waiting for the right moment.”

Kirk shook his head. “Well, Bones, I was starting to envy you your health, but now I think I’m probably better off!”

Leonard sighed and looked down.

“Listen, though,” Kirk said, this time very seriously. “Let me know if I can help in any of this. I owe you my life five times over. If there’s anything I can do...”

Leonard smiled. “Thank you, Jim. You’ve been plenty of help already.”

Kirk smiled and nodded. “Anytime. By the way, there’s one other important thing. What does _she_ want? Before you take him on, you should probably figure that out.”

Leonard smiled a little. “That’s what I intend to do right now.”

  
~~~~~

This time, Leonard made it home approximately when he’d thought he would. You were just finishing up cooking, the food and coffee only a little bit burnt.

“So, how’s the sheriff doing?” you asked, sitting down with him at the small table. It was a little strange how natural this domestic routine felt. You hadn’t even been in Leonard’s home a full day yet, but already you felt more comfortable there than in your own house.

“Seems to be somewhat better. He’s not out of the woods yet, though. I want to pay him another visit later today. How are _you_ feeling, my dear? Any unusual symptoms, trouble breathing?”

“Well, aside from some shortness of breath last night and this morning...” you said with a wink. “No, I’m okay so far.”

Leonard blushed at that and laughed. “Y/N, look, ah, we should probably talk.”

“Okay?” Those were seldom words that preceded any good news, and your heartbeat picked up a little.

“First of all, I, ah...I owe you a bit of an apology.”

“For what?” you asked, confused.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you about how you came to be staying here with me. Ben knows you’re staying in another house, but I have good reason to suspect he thinks it’s somewhere besides this one.”

“What do you mean by ‘good reason to suspect?’”

“He didn’t ask for specifics. He just took my statement at face value and, well...”

“Well, what?”

“Changed the subject to business matters. He was very persistently concerned about what this sickness would do to his store’s profits. He hung up before I could clarify, and, well...I didn’t call back.”

You rolled your eyes. You had no doubt Leonard was telling the truth, that was Ben all over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for putting you in this position without your consent. I’ll take full responsibility if it comes to that. For what it’s worth, though,” he continued, taking your hand and looking in your eyes, “even with the outbreak, these have been the best 24 hours I’ve had in I can’t even remember how long. I want you to know that.”

You looked down. “Yeah...me too. Look, I don’t like dishonesty, Leonard. Well, at least between you and me. But it sounds like you did it because you wanted to spend time with me, which...well, I guess I can think of worse motivations.”

Leonard took a deep breath. “Which brings me to my next question.”

“Okay?”

“Did you know Ben was planning to move you two back to California at the end of the year?”

You gasped. That was a surprise. It figured; as soon as you’d found a reason to get up in the morning here in Pioche, he was going to uproot you all over again. You slumped in your chair, feeling completely deflated. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“Do you want to go, Y/N?” he asked, very seriously.

“Do I have a choice?” you asked bitterly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Fine. If you’d asked me that a couple of months ago, I’d have been on the train to San Francisco before you’d finished the sentence. But now...” You looked at him, uncertain. You didn’t want to say anything too forward and embarrass yourself, but the idea of never seeing this man again, especially after the previous night, was just about unbearable.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said bluntly. “I want you to stay here with me. Is that something you’d consider?”

You stared at him in shock. Not that that scenario hadn’t crossed your mind in daydreams, but you hadn’t really expected him to go there, and you definitely hadn’t expected it to happen this suddenly. Not to mention, you still really hardly knew the doctor. You had no idea where specifically he was from or even his exact age, nor did you understand all that much about the nature of his friendship with the sheriff, which was starting to sound at least a little shady.

And yet, even with all of that, you had to admit you’d been happier in the brief time you’d known Leonard than you had been in years. For the first time since your father had passed, you felt like you belonged somewhere. 

It was a monumental question, but you knew the answer as soon as he asked. “Yeah,” you said. “I would. I definitely would.” The look on Leonard’s face made you wish you could answer his question 100 more times. “How would that work, though?”

“Well, the first thing we’d need to do is get you divorced from Ben.”

You nodded.

“Would you be open to that? He would leave town, but you’d stay behind. Here. With me.”

“Leonard, is this...?”

“A marriage proposal?” He laughed. “You could call it that, yes. A bit unconventional, perhaps.”

You laughed, too. “I’ll say.” Ben hadn’t really proposed, per se — the whole thing had mostly been decided between him and your father — so it struck you as slightly ridiculous that you were essentially getting your first proposal after being married for several years.

“Y/N,” he interrupted your train of thought. “It will be a little different from what you’re used to. I’m not wealthy. About a third of my patients can’t pay their fees at all. I make up a lot of the rest through my ‘arrangements’ with the sheriff, but it will still be a different standard of living than you’re used to. And due to the area I, ah, specialize in, we may be stuck here for a while longer. I just want you to know up front before you make any final decisions. One thing I can promise you, though, is you’d never be lonely.”

You squeezed his hand and nodded. You had no doubt he was being honest in that last part. “Thanks, Leonard. I understand. So, what’s the next step? I guess I’ll be having a talk with Ben?” 

“No,” Leonard said. “I don’t want you there going over there alone to talk about this. Especially after the small mess I made. Let me handle it.”

“Are you sure about that? Ben may dress like a snob, but he has a temper. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty if he has to.”

“He won’t try anything, at least not like that. It may not be fair to have the law on my side in something like this, but it is helpful. And if I’m right about him, he’ll be too concerned about his reputation to want to stir up too big a fuss anyway, not to mention getting too close to me in the middle of a quarantine. Just let me handle it, Y/N.”

You nodded. “I guess, if you insist.”

The phone rang then, and Leonard went to answer it. Two more cases had turned up at a miner’s cabin up the road. It looked like this conversation would have to wait, at least until the new patients could be tended to. Leonard packed his bag, gave you a long kiss, and headed out to make his afternoon house calls.  
  


~~~~~

Leonard took a few hours after that to visit a few other patients before checking in again on Kirk. In the meantime, you occupied yourself by cleaning up the dishes and taking care of a few other chores you noticed around the small house. If this was how it was going to be, you thought, smiling a little despite yourself, there was no time like the present to start learning those skills.

As you worked, you thought about your plans with Leonard. It still didn’t sit right with you that he was going to talk to Ben. Not that you were eager to have a conversation like that, but it just seemed so fundamentally wrong. You were the one who had made those vows. Any news about them being broken should come from you. The two of you hadn’t had much of a friendship, let alone any romantic attachment, but he _had_ provided for you for the last several years, and you felt like you at least owed him the courtesy of an explanation for what you were about to do.

You thought for a few moments. Leonard’s house was a ways from downtown, but you were pretty sure you could make it there and back before he got home, even if you had to walk. Then, you could have dinner ready and on the table, and it would be one less fire for him to put out. You looked at the clock and the lengthening shadows outside. There was really no time to waste; you could think about what you’d say on the walk there. Taking a deep breath, you laced up your boots and headed out the door, bound for downtown Pioche.

When you got to Main Street, the town was mostly deserted thanks to the quarantine. Predictably, though, one store appeared to be open — the mercantile. As you neared it, you could see a familiar stocky figure behind the counter. It was your husband. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. This wasn’t going to be fun, but it needed to be done.

  
~~~~~

The walk from downtown back to McCoy’s house wasn’t short, but it was at least quiet, and it gave you plenty of time to think.

As predicted, your conversation with Ben hadn’t gone well. You’d spared him the details about yourself and Leonard, not so much out of cowardice as being constantly interrupted. Those details would come out eventually anyway, you figured; as it was, he was outraged that you’d suggest splitting up, insisting that he deserved better than a wife who meddled in his affairs and then ran out on him at the first sign of financial trouble. The topic had closed with him driving you out of the store and promising you that you wouldn’t see a single red cent of “his” money, even if it meant he had to bankrupt the both of you. Nevada was a community property state, but he could still sink your assets into lengthy legal battles if it meant making you properly sorry for your decision. The only bright side was that with the quarantine, fewer people had been around to hear the ugly outburst.

Now you sighed to yourself as you walked, wondering if you’d done the right thing and what would happen if, by some chance, Leonard had changed his mind about all of this.

You finally reached Leonard’s cottage and saw, to your surprise, his buggy parked and light shining from inside. It was twilight at this point, and you realized you must’ve lost track of time a little.

You opened the door to find him with the phone receiver in his hand, yelling some kinds of southern oaths at what sounded like Spock. When he saw you, he exclaimed “Y/N!” and dropped the receiver, running over to grab you. “Thank God. Where have you been? It’s after dark!”

“I just went to talk to Ben is all. I’m sorry to worry you.”

His face changed from relieved to something else. “You what?”

“I went into town to talk to Ben. I know you’d said you would, but I got to thinking and I felt like I owed him that much. I thought maybe it’d be better coming from me. I guess I didn’t count on the walk taking this long. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“You went over there after I specifically told you _not_ to go?” You stared at him, taken aback by his reaction. He looked furious now.

“Wait, are you mad at me? I talked to him myself, now you don’t have to--”

“Dammit, Y/N, how long have you lived here and you don’t know this is the homicide capital of the state? Not to mention your breaking quarantine. You could’ve gotten yourself sick, or worse. Don’t you know what this town is like? It’s bad enough for a man, let alone a single woman. Even Ben didn’t let you go around alone! What the hell is wrong with you, don’t you have any sense?”

You stared at him, biting your lip hard. That last question hit the hardest. You were used to hearing it from Ben, but getting it from Leonard of all people, and especially now, after the angry and humiliating confrontation with your husband, was a bridge too far. “I...” you stammered, taking in the intensity of his glare and wondering if you’d just left one bad situation for another. Hot tears welled up in your eyes.

Leonard instantly regretted his outburst and grabbed you into a hug. “Oh dammit, honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just got so worried. I know you meant well, sweetheart. Dammit, I’m just so wound up from dealing with Kirk and _his_ risk taking. When I got home, and you weren’t here, I thought the worst.”

He held you as the tears started falling. “God, Leonard, do you think I’m stupid, too? Ben always said how useless I was.”

Leonard again felt that overwhelming desire to punch Childress in the face, perhaps multiple times. “No, sweetheart, you’re not stupid, and you’re definitely not useless. And I know I’ve got no right to judge you for risk taking after how I handled all this. But honey, this town is dangerous. Especially for a woman by herself, and on foot no less. Just promise me you won’t do that again, alright? At least until we can move somewhere safer. I love you, Y/N. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I’m sorry, Leonard. I love you, too.” You tried to keep your voice from wavering. “I just kept thinking about you going over there to talk to him and something bad happening, and--”

“Shh. I understand. Please don’t worry about me, though, alright? I can take care of myself if it comes to that.”

He held you close, stroking your hair comfortingly and making more “shh” sounds. His gentle consolation was hard to resist, and before long, your tears had stopped and you felt yourself melting into him. After a moment, he moved the two of you to the sofa, and you sat for a while longer, not speaking, but just glad to be close to each other after an exhausting afternoon.

“So?” he asked after a while.

“So, what?”

“How _did_ it go?” You pulled back to look at him and saw the twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, wiping your eyes. “About what you’d expect. He threw me out.”

“What, out into the street?”

“More or less. I know what you mean about it being tempting to not tell him the full truth, by the way. I was barely able to ask for a divorce before he started ranting about a man’s right to privacy and a wife’s duty to her husband, and something else I couldn’t really follow. Anyway, he told me if I was going to throw in the towel this fast, he’d beat me to it and find a circuit judge first thing tomorrow.”

“Good.” You looked up, a little surprised. “That means you’re all mine now.” He smiled. “Right?”

You considered and nodded, earning another bigger smile from him.

“Well, I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you I’ve discussed this some with Kirk. Mostly for informational purposes. Seems like you and Ben have been here, oh, about 4 months now? You nodded. Well, that’s long enough to claim residency and long enough to split in just a few days. And then--”

“Well, that’s assuming it’s uncontested. Ben swore he’d sooner see me _and_ himself indigent than let me get a cent of what my father left me. That could take months. Especially since I think he’s got most of the money tied up in ventures out here.”

“Do you really need it, Y/N?”

“Len, that’s my father’s money. He worked his whole life for it. Not to mention the house we lived in back in California. I know that’s not what he would’ve wanted.”

“From what Kirk’s told me,” Leonard said gently, “There may not be as much to fight over as you think. That’s apparently the reason he wants to leave Nevada.” You stared at him in shock. “And even if he’s wrong — what do you think your father would care about more, Y/N? The money or your happiness? Assuming, of course, that you think you could be happy here.”

You looked around at the well-worn furniture in the small room. Compared to what you’d grown up with and had been used to, especially in California, this was practically riches to rags, and you knew that realistically, it would be an adjustment. There would be no maids here, or cooks, or even indoor plumbing, and you’d have to learn to deal with all of that in short order. Even with all that, though, there was no question where you wanted to be. You shrugged. “I’m already happy here,” you replied.

Leonard fairly beamed at you, not saying anything but just squeezing you tightly. The two of you again sat quietly, enjoying the comfort of each other, until Leonard broke the silence. “I do think I need to do something about your disobeying me earlier, though.”

You tilted your head at him and furrowed your brow. “Disobeying?”

Leonard’s expression was stern now, but the gleam in his eyes gave away his intentions. You’d seen this look before. It was the same way he’d looked when he’d come to the mercantile to tease you about the vibrator. “Ohh,” you said, picking up the cue and playing along. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Thinking you can just do as you please, with no consequences. And then sassing me like you always do. No, I think I’m going to need to teach you a lesson this time. Hm? Don’t you agree?”

You knew this was his way of ensuring he had your consent for whatever he had in mind. You couldn’t quite guess at it yet, but knowing how these things usually went with him, you were more than ready to find out. All you did, though, was smirk and shrug. “Good luck with that.”

Dr. McCoy was a thin man, but you’d learned from previous experience that he was much stronger than he looked, and he proved it again now. Within moments, he had you flipped over and laid on your stomach across his lap, and was pinning your arms down with a firm grip while slowly rolling up the back of your dress and petticoats. “Leonard!” you exclaimed, starting to realize exactly what he intended to do. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Now now, my dear. You’re not going anywhere,” he drawled. “Not until you’ve learned who’s really in charge around here.”

With the hand not pinning you, he caressed your bottom, humming lowly and approvingly, before easing the fabric down and exposing the soft, bare skin. You struggled again, but not with any real intention of trying to break free. “Mm, now remember, my dear, this hurts me more than it does you.” Without further warning, his large palm came down against your bottom, not hard enough to cause any real pain but definitely hard enough to get your attention. You gasped and made a kind of “eep!” sound. He was definitely stronger than he looked, and as strange as it was to be laid across his lap and handled this way, the fact that he could subdue you this easily was also incredibly hot. “Leonard! What was that for?”

“I told you, my dear. We need to get that rebellious streak of yours in check.” He raised his arm again and repeated the motion, this time a bit harder.

“Oh my goodness, I _almost_ felt that,” you said.

“Oh? More sass?” He raised his hand again and brought it down once more, making a resounding “slap” noise this time. This one stung a little more, but you replied, “Is that the best you can--”

_SLAP_

That one took you by surprise and you yelped. “Mmm, that’s better, my dear. You’re learning.”

“Ha, no, I’m--”

_SLAP_

You yelped again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised that you were getting extremely turned on by this, both the way he was restraining you and the fact that you could feel the beginnings of an erection starting to press into your belly. He was rubbing your bottom again now, soothing the skin there, and the way he was stroking you was at once comforting and also causing an almost unbearable blood rush to another area below your waist.

“Had enough?” he teased.

“Oh, had you started? News to m--”

_WHACK_

“Dammit, Leonard. You can’t--”

_CRACK_

The man was definitely getting hard now and you wondered at this, though maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. You already knew he had some unpredictable proclivities, especially ones that allowed him to be this dominant. His hand moved again, and you were expecting another spank, but instead he reached down, nudging your thighs apart, and slid his middle finger through your folds, confirming just how wet and swollen you’d gotten from his “punishment.” You gasped and whimpered at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh, what’s this??” he asked, circling your clit very, very lightly. “You’re wet, aren’t you? Did I tell you you could get wet from this?”

“No.”

“So, why did you?”

“Dunno. Not like you can do much about it, though, is the--”

_WHACK_

“Oooh, hey, you’re getting better, that almost hurt a little!”

Leonard raised his arm again and you twisted around and smirked. He stopped then, and lowered it a bit. As you exhaled, he raised it again and brought it down on your ass with a resounding smack. You whimpered, about to tell him you’d had enough — your ass was actually really starting to smart at this point.

Leonard flipped you over on your back. Cradling you in one arm, he yanked your pantalettes the rest of the way off of you. He then opened your legs with his right hand and ran a finger slowly up your slit, which was now sopping wet from all the teasing. “I can’t believe this gets you hot,” he whispered, holding your wrists firmly in one hand while he stroked you with the other. “What am I going to do with you?” You didn’t, couldn’t, respond, too preoccupied with his skilled fingers drifting mesmerizingly over your soaking wet folds and starting to once again circle your clit. “Leonard, please,” you begged, gasping as one finger teased around your entrance before pushing inside you.

“Please what, my dear?” his drawl making you clench involuntarily. “Oh? What was that? You just tightened up like crazy around me, sweetheart. Why?”

Your pussy clenched again at that last word; his accent sounded particularly strong around vowels, especially “i” sounds.

“ _Oh?_ ” His grin broadened, and his blue eyes widened and twinkled with mischief. “Could it be...” He leaned close and whispered: “Do you like the way I talk, sweetheart?”

You moaned, clenching down hard and proving his theory.

“Well now, this is a vereh interestin’ discovery,” he teased, circling your clit slowly with his thumb as he spoke in an exaggerated drawl. “Hmm, what am I gonna do with this vereh sensitive infahmation?”

“Please, Leonard,” you begged. “I need you.”

“Need me how?” He continued to speak in a pronounced drawl, and you moaned in frustration, squirming and writhing under his touch. “Use your words, m’dear. Remember, you won’t shock me. Just tell the doctor how he can ease your suffering.”

“I need you inside me!” you gasped. “Please fuck me, Leonard, I can’t stand it anymore.”

That wiped the smug, teasing smile off of his face, and he furrowed his brow, muttering a curse at your needy words. Truth was, he had been on the very edge of losing his self-control this entire time and your pleading pushed him past his limit; he couldn’t hold out a moment longer. He still wasn’t going to let you know that, though. “Alright, girl, alright,” he growled. “But you’re not off the hook yet. Get on top of me.”

“On top?”

“Yes. You’re going to take me from on top.”

“How...would that even work?”

“Well, for starters...” He reached behind you and, a bit forcefully, unhooked the back of your dress. “All this needs to come off.”

You got off the sofa just long enough to shed what was left of your clothing. “Much better,” he purred, his voice still carrying a hint of a strain. “Now sit back on my lap.”

“What about you?” you hesitated. “You still have your clothes on.”

“Oh, I know, my dear, I know.” He unbuttoned his trousers and took out his cock, now throbbing hard and weeping copiously. “That’s how it works. You’re still in trouble, remember? Only good girls make love on their backs in proper beds. You’re so insistent on doin’ things your own way, you’re going to take my cock like this. And if you act up again, I might just open up the drapes so everyone can see how much you’ve misbehaved.”

Dammit, if he kept this up, none of this was going to last long, you thought. You sat back down obediently and straddled him. “Like this?” you asked coyly.

“Yes, my dear, yes. Only first...” He reached under you and pushed one finger and then a second up into you, making a gentle scissoring motion. “Mmm. Mhmm. This should help.” Then, without warning, he removed his fingers, grabbed your hips, and lined himself up at your entrance. “Ready, honey?” You nodded, and he started to pull you down onto himself.

You whimpered loudly this time. Even with the preparation he’d done with his fingers, and even as wet as you both were, you could tell immediately this was going to be a challenge. You weren’t a virgin, but sex with your husband had been asking substantially less of your body’s elasticity than this was. “Mmm, a little much, my dear?” he asked, still smirking but his eyes showing concern. “Okay. We’ll just go slow, hm? There, shhh, we’ll get there.” He licked his fingertips and started circling your clit, nodding as you moaned slightly. “There. Just relax, sweetheart. Nothing to be nervous about. Just focus on my fingers.” As he circled, he pulled you to him for a deep, sensual kiss and continued to thrust gently, swallowing your soft moans as he made you take a little more of him with each thrust. “There, sweetheart, that’s right. A little more, hmm? You’re takin’ me so well, honey, mmm.” You groaned as he pushed more of his cock into you while watching your face closely for any signs of real discomfort. “Almost there, sweetheart. Just a little more.” You whined softly. “Mhmm. I want you to take the whole thing like a good girl.” You closed your eyes and cried out as he pushed the rest in, the base of him being the thickest and stretching you to your limit. Finally, you felt your ass meet his lap and whimpered softly, meeting his eyes and gripping his arms as you tried to get used to the overwhelming fullness.

Leonard exhaled in a deep growl. “Oh, that’s good, honey. Good girl, oh _fuck_ ,” he groaned as his accent made you clench even more tightly around his cock. Between your insides being stretched to capacity and the pressure his hands were exerting on your hips as he panted and tried to control himself, you felt completely consumed by him, completely claimed. It was unbelievably satisfying.

“Am I still being punished, sir?” you asked, trying and failing to suppress a light giggle. Leonard cursed softly and squeezed his eyes shut, your use of “sir” nearly finishing him off then and there.

He nodded. “Yes, sweetheart,” he said. “Now,” he continued, panting, “Now you’re going to ride me.” Without further warning, he thrust up into you, making you yelp mid-giggle and smirking at the reaction he got.

It was still very strange to you, being the one on top, but you quickly recognized the advantage of being able to set the pace and control how much of him you took. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you started to move very slowly, taking your time to get used to him. Gradually, the burn from the stretch eased and you started moving a bit more, taking slightly longer strides and drawing groans of approval and a near death grip on your hips from him as he helped you rise and fall.

Leonard was fighting like hell to contain himself. He didn’t want this to be over with too quickly, but it had been so many years since he’d had intercourse, and truth be told, it had never been quite like this, with his partner on top, not to mention this uninhibited and enthusiastic. He’d been nervous about hurting you, but that didn’t seem to be a concern now, with you starting to pick up a steady rhythm and moaning softly as you rose and fell on his cock. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the intensity of the moment and the way you were rolling your hips against him and still gripping him so incredibly tightly. He angled himself a little differently then, and the next time you sank down on him, you cried out in surprise as his cock rubbed right against something that filled you with intense pleasure. “You like that, honey?”

“God, Leonard. It feels so good.”

He nodded. “I told you you could do it. You were made for this, sweetheart. You were made for me.” He leaned into you then and started whispering in your ear, picking up his heavy drawl from earlier and pushing himself up into you, eager for more friction. “You fit me so perfect, sugar. So sweet and tight around me. You’re so beautiful like this, sweetheart. So beautiful with me inside you.” His silk vest and shirt were rubbing deliciously against your breasts, and you were more conscious than ever of how completely exposed you were. If you hadn’t felt like a bad girl before, you definitely did now, stripped bare and openly fucking this man whose middle name you still didn’t even know and who was himself still almost fully clothed. Leonard seemed to have the same thought process, smirking at you as his hands eagerly wandered all over your body, pinching and groping. It was incredibly hot, being so exposed to him, and you started fucking him faster, wanting to make him feel as good as you did.

“Ugh, Y/N,” he groaned. “Honey, do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“How long?”

“Since the first time I saw you. In my office. On my exam table with--” he growled a profanity as you slammed down on him suddenly, “--half-naked with your beautiful tits out and my fingers inside you. Looking up at me so surprised as I made you come on my fingers. I wanted to fuck you so bad, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, panting.

“This. Here,” he growled, lightly taking hold of the back of your hair as you sank down on him again. “Wanted you to want it as much as I did. Fuck honey, you keep riding me like this and I’m not going to last much longer,” he gasped as you took him particularly deep and clenched around him.

“How exactly am I supposed to ride you then? you teased, panting. He wasted no time flipping you over onto your back in response.

“You’re not, smart mouth,” he growled. “It’s my turn now.” He quickly unbuttoned his vest and shirt, throwing them across the room and then pressing his hot chest against yours. “It might feel a little different from this angle. You let me know if it’s too much.” You nodded, watching his eyes the whole time as he sank into you.

Leonard groaned deeply as he opened you again. He was right — the size difference was even more noticeable in this position, and you cried out a little, though this time from pleasure more than anything else. He smiled at your reaction, at how much you were clearly enjoying him as much as he was you. This had been well worth the wait and the frustration. He waited until you were ready before he started moving. Now he was in control, and he was going to make the most of it.

Leonard started slowly, letting you get used to the new position, but he soon picked up speed, moving in you the way he needed to. This was a very different experience from what you’d been used to. Where Ben had been all measured self-control and propriety, Leonard fucked you thoroughly, greedily, like he hadn’t seen a woman in years and wasn’t sure when he would again. Holding your hands behind your head, he peppered your mouth, cheeks, and neck with hot kisses before letting go of one hand so he could rub your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. The friction between your bodies was almost unbearable now, and neither of you had any composure left for teasing, just groaning loudly together with each snap of his hips into yours.

His next thrust hit especially hard, and you cried out a little. “Everything ok?” he panted, his eyes concerned.

“God, it feels so good,” you moaned. “Don’t stop! Fuck me harder, Leonard.”

Leonard cursed, losing his last thread of control at your begging. He started fucking you in earnest now, fast and fierce, rubbing more insistently, and reminding you of how bad you’d been, and how bad you were for letting him take you right there in the front parlor, right where company sat. You grasped his upper arms and held on as he pounded into you, both of you relieving years of sexual frustration with each hard thrust and each moan of pleasure from the other. The sofa was now thumping against the wall, and if anyone was passing by outside, they were definitely getting an earful of just how skilled and dedicated Dr. Leonard McCoy was in his treatment of hysteria.

“Ughhh, honey,” he moaned, right on the edge. “Ugh, I don’t want to pull out.”

“Then don’t,” you gasped, right there yourself.

He paused and looked down at you, panting. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “If you are.”

Leonard needed no further encouragement than that, withdrawing and then slamming back into you again, drawing a loud moan of ecstasy from you. “Oh honey,” he groaned. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to come. Oh _fuck_ , you feel so good. Are you ready for me, sugar?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, just grabbed his slim, muscular ass and pulled it against you, wanting every last inch inside you as you started to flutter around him. He held you gently but firmly by the back of the hair, redirecting your eyes to meet his, wanting to fully share this moment with you. With a long, loud cry, you gave into the pleasure, rolling your hips against his as his thick cock pumped you through the waves of an orgasm so intense you thought you might black out. Your pussy squeezed him tightly, and he let out a primal groan of your name as he was also overcome with pleasure, giving you three hard final thrusts before shoving into you and coming deep inside. Rocking his hips gently, he smiled as he watched your eyes widen from the feeling of his hot release flooding into you. You moaned his name softly as it filled you up. 

Leonard half-collapsed onto you and you held him close, embracing him with your arms and legs as you both recovered from your intense end. After a moment, his lips found yours, and he kissed you deeply, passionately, before gently pulling out, rolling to the side, and pulling you against him. The two of you lay there for a long time, just enjoying the afterglow and the closeness. You were dimly aware that a world existed outside this house, but very little mattered at this point aside from what had just happened in this room and on this couch.

Leonard finally broke the silence. “How was that, sweetheart?”

“It was worth the wait,” you smiled and paused. “Although...”

“Although?”

“I think I’m going to have to find more ways to get you mad at me.”

He laughed out loud. “I’ll help.”

~~~~~

It was still early in the evening, so eventually you got up and heated up the previous night’s dinner while Leonard drew the water for another bath. That, predictably, ended much the same way as it had the night before, except that there wasn’t as much need for your bath oil this time.

Neither of you got much sleep again that night. Leonard had an excellent imagination, and for the next several hours, he filled you in on everything he’d been thinking about since you’d first arrived in his office weeks earlier. You finally dozed off for good around 3:00, his hand holding yours and his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

The next morning, exhausted and sore but happy, he got up and moved around the house quietly, so as not to wake you, getting himself dressed and caffeinated so he could go check in on Kirk. He placed a note on the pillow and kissed you softly on the forehead before he left, the knowledge that you’d be there when he got home that day and every day after that more than compensating for the fatigue.

The sheriff was doing a little better than the day before. The hacking cough was still there, causing him persistent discomfort, but the fever hadn’t come back and he needed a lower dose of laudanum than the day before to cope with the pleurisy. The bigger news was the overnight departure of Ben Childress, who had shut up his shop, vacated his house, and, according to a very confused LaSalle, hopped a red-eye train to no one quite knew where.

This presented a problem, both for you and for his creditors — the goods in the store and the house would probably be enough to take care of his debts, but a divorce could only be granted if both parties were present, or if one of them had been gone and untraceable for at least 2 years. You sighed deeply when Leonard told you. Ben was a proud man, but he was excellent at serving when it came to revenge.

Fortunately, Jim Kirk was not one to believe in no-win scenarios, at least where his friends were concerned and where it was within his power to do something about it. A few phone calls and carefully “edited” official documents later, and that waiting period had been bargained down to 30 days, provided that Ben didn’t change his mind and show up again (and Kirk posted lookouts around town to discourage him if he tried). After exactly 30 days, Leonard and your new friends accompanied you to the Million Dollar Courthouse, where a judge representing the County of Lincoln, Nevada, proclaimed you a free woman. About 1 hour later, the same judge revised that ruling, declaring you once again married but this time under a brand-new name — Y/N McCoy.


End file.
